Falling Shadow
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Prequel to Many Meetings. Legolas and his mother are enjoying a summer in Rivendell. Unexpected events in their home lead to tragic consequences nobody could have anticipated. Angst, friendship.
1. In Imladris

**DISCLAIMER:** Nope, not mine.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This is the prequel to _Many Meetings_, set when Legolas is a little under five hundred and when Thranduil's people have not yet moved north. (For the record, I usually write an older Legolas than most people do, a century or so younger than Arwen, but hopefully that won't impair your enjoyment of the story!)

I had hoped to have a bit more of this written before I started posting, but it looks like I need a looming deadline to motivate me to write it. *g* I do hope to keep to a fairly regular schedule as far as updates are concerned.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for advice, suggestions and patience with questions.

**SUMMARY: **Legolas and his mother are enjoying a summer in Rivendell. Unexpected events in their home lead to tragic consequences nobody could have anticipated. Angst, friendship.

**WARNINGS:** None at the moment, but there will be major angst in later chapters.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: In Imladris**

"Out of my way, out of my way!"

The sound, accompanied by madly racing footsteps, was familiar. The Elves gathered in the entrance hall of the Last Homely House exchanged glances and smiles as the shout was closely followed by a dark-haired young _ellon_, looking as panicked as though he were being chased by a balrog. He wove in and out of the throng with surprising agility, even for an Elf.

"What have you done this time, Elrohir?" a slender Elf dressed in a silvery-grey gown asked him as he passed her.

"Nothing, _Nana_, I swear." The young Elf paused at the door and risked a glance over his shoulder. At the sight of a pair of _ellyn _appearing at the top of the stairs, he groaned. "My Queen, will you not give me sanctuary? I swear I have done nothing to deserve this!"

The dark-haired _elleth_ thus addressed only laughed. With another groan, Elrohir bolted out the front door and in the direction of the surrounding woods. The two young Elves who were pursuing him ran down the stairs. One was dark-haired and identical to Elrohir, the other blond. They, unlike their quarry, were armed with bows and had full quivers, which explained how he had managed to get such a head start.

"Remember that Elrohir is expected to meet the messenger from Mithlond tomorrow," the Master of Imladris called after them as they flew to the door. "I want him fit."

"Do not worry, _hîr nîn_," the blond Elf shouted over his shoulder. "No lasting physical damage, I guarantee it!"

"You are still recovering from your broken arm, Legolas! Do not exert –"

"It's no use, Elrond; they're too far to hear you."

The Lord of Imladris shook his head with an expression of resignation.

"With all due respect, Lindariel, your son is the most unsatisfactory patient I have ever had to treat in my _life_. And that is even including the twins and Gil-galad."

* * *

"Elrohir!" Legolas shouted furiously as he and Elladan ran into the trees. "You know you cannot hide!"

There was no response. Elladan shifted his weight, reaching for his bow.

"He must have taken to the trees," he murmured.

"That will not help him," Legolas whispered. He looked around to see if Elrohir was visible nearby, and, finding that he was not, he went to the nearest tree and laid his hands flat on the trunk. Elladan watched silently. Trees, whether in Imladris or Eryn Galen, tended to be unabashedly partial to Legolas and were always willing to abet him.

A few seconds later, Legolas murmured, "_Le hannon_," and lifted his hands from the trunk. He glanced at Elladan and pointed.

Elladan walked over to Legolas so softly that he could barely hear his own footsteps.

"The stream is in that direction," he breathed.

"_Istón_."

"Is Ro anywhere near it?"

Legolas looked at him for a moment before his face broke into a smile. "I will ask the trees to make sure he does not hear our approach."

Around an hour later, three _ellyn _were seen returning to the Last Homely House, one of them dripping water as he walked and muttering imprecations about the perfidy of apple trees.

* * *

Draw. Aim. Release.

_Thwack._

Draw. Aim.

"I do not know why you even bother, Elfling," Elrohir said. "You never miss." He set an arrow to his own bow and squinted at the targets that had been set up at the other end of the practice field. "_Need_ they be so far away?"

"You can bring yours closer," Elladan said cheerfully. "If you think you cannot manage this."

"And I am _not_," Legolas said, "an Elfling."

"I will not argue with you while you are holding the bow. You are not an Elfling." Elrohir waited until Legolas' attention was on the target and then mouthed to Elladan, "_For now_."

Elladan suppressed a snicker.

"I heard that," Legolas said calmly.

"How could you? I made no sound."

"I heard the _intent_." Legolas waved an arrow at Elrohir threateningly. "I _know_ you, Elrondion."

"Well, you ought to," Elladan said lazily. "You would have had to have the brains of a _dwarf_ not to know him by now."

"So what is it like being a warrior of the realm?" Elrohir asked suddenly.

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"As if you don't know."

"Of course we don't," Elladan said. "Imladris is a haven, Legolas, not a kingdom. Look around you. This is a valley, there is the house and then the garden and some ponds and flowers and it's all very _pretty_ but it barely even qualifies as a _city_. We are simply warriors."

"You, on the other hand, are the heir to the woodland throne," Elrohir said, smiling at the grimace that got from Legolas. "You have a kingdom to defend –"

"Royal duties –"

"Trade relations to maintain –"

"Quite right. Who would want trade relations with Imladris? We only produce songs and swordsmen."

"_Ada_ might find uses for both," Legolas said. "He likes songs and he always complains about a surfeit of archers."

Elrohir laughed.

"I'd like to see the swordsman who can stand against the Greenwood archers. I know _I_ won't be volunteering."

"_You_ shoot like a Man, Noldo."

Elrohir looked outraged, but before he could say anything a shout from the edge of the practice field attracted their attention. The three Elves turned towards the sound and saw a tall, golden-haired warrior waving at them.

"Glorfindel!" Legolas exclaimed in delight. "I thought I would not see you before I left."

"Not see me, _penneth_?" the older Elf asked, jogging up to them. "I think _not_. I have to see what damage Thorontur's inadequate tutelage has done to your aim, do I not?"

Legolas laughed.

"Lord Thorontur has not had much time to devote to training – since you last saw me shoot most of my training has been with the Archery Masters."

"Worse and worse," Glorfindel said grimly. "Your father's Archery Masters cannot be trusted to shoot a horse from three feet. I will have a word with Thorontur about this; we cannot have your archery ruined for lack of a good teacher."

Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir all laughed, although they were not entirely certain whether Glorfindel was joking or not. He gave them a smile that could have meant anything and backed off a few paces.

"Go on, Legolas," he said. "Five arrows, in the centre, as quickly as you can."

"A silver brooch says Glorfindel will find something to complain about," Elrohir murmured to Elladan. His voice was too soft to carry to Glorfindel, but Legolas heard and scowled at him. His scowl deepened when Elladan replied, "Do I look like eight kinds of idiot? Glorfindel finds something to complain about when he watches _Daeradar_ at practice."

"Legolas!" Glorfindel said. "Whatever ridiculous nonsense those two are going on about, ignore it and shoot!"

Legolas drew in a deep breath, checked his bowstring, set his feet, and pulled the first arrow from his quiver.

* * *

"That was a brilliant idea, Celebrían," Lindariel murmured as she stood at the study window. "I don't know how you thought of it."

Celebrían laughed. "I thought of it because I have brought up three Elflings, not one. Glorfindel was getting restless in any case; he usually does when he is cooped up in Imladris for too long. It was really solving two problems at once – now _he_ will not be mooching around gloomily, scaring visitors out of their wits, and _they_ will not be getting in trouble."

"I don't know if you are too confident, there," Elrond said. "That Glorfindel will be fully occupied until dinnertime I do not doubt; ever since that incident with the oak tree and Celeborn's new cloak he has been trying to interfere with your son's archery training, Lindariel. The last time Thorontur was here he complained about it so much that I had to drug his wine in order to get a decent night's rest – and slipping sleeping herbs into guests' goblets is _not_, I might add, something for which I wish to become notorious."

Lindariel and Celebrían both laughed at that.

"_Meleth nîn_," Celebrían assured her husband, "there is no danger of your _becoming_ notorious for drugging people's wine. You already _are_ notorious for that."

Elrond smiled at his wife, who merely shook her head at him. Then, as though coming to an unspoken decision, they both turned to the amused queen.

"All right, Lindariel," Elrond said in a tone that brooked no argument, "enough of this. You've not been yourself since you came here. What is wrong? And do not bother denying it," as the _elleth_ shook her head. "I believe I know where Legolas gets his stubbornness. Something troubles you. What is it?"

There was a very long pause. Then Lindariel bowed her head.

"I grieve for my son," she said quietly.

Elrond looked startled, but Celebrían seemed to understand; she waved her husband to silence when he opened his mouth to ask for an explanation.

"It cannot be easy," the Lady of Imladris said gently. "He is young – even younger than Arwen, and the Valar know I have a difficult enough time believing that _she_ is grown up."

"He is barely five hundred," Lindariel said hoarsely. "He should be carefree, fooling around with his friends, wooing maidens, all the things young _ellyn_ did before these darker days came. Instead he bears the burden of being Thranduil's heir… He is the most skillful archer in Eryn Galen, Thorontur tells me. Of course I am proud of him, but I wish he had not seen so much battle already. I had hoped that with Sauron defeated he would live in a happier world."

"Lindariel," Elrond murmured, "we are in a time of relative peace. If you feel Legolas should not be a warrior yet –"

"I cannot say that," the Elven-queen whispered. "Sauron was not utterly destroyed; you know this." She glanced at the ring on Elrond's finger. "We have nothing to protect Eryn Galen save the strength of our warriors; the enemy is swift and stealthy, and we maintain our vigilance against the day of his return. We dare not let down our guard. What kind of queen would I be if I asked Legolas not to do his duty to the realm? It only grieves me that the duty is so hard."

"Yet he finds peace here, in the company of his friends," Celebrían said, glancing out the window again. "And I see in Imladris the same young Elf I knew two hundred years ago, when he had no cares at all."

"I know," Lindariel replied. "I cannot express my gratitude to –"

"No thanks between friends," Celebrían said, smiling. "Legolas has found his way into my heart. Who could resist him? I enjoy seeing him laugh just as much as you do."

* * *

On the other side of the Misty Mountains, a tall, golden-haired Elf was standing on his balcony looking out over a seemingly endless expanse of forest, watching Elflings laughing in the lower branches of oaks and stalking each other through the trees.

He heaved a sigh. There were weeks to go until his wife and son were scheduled to return from Imladris, and he did not know how he was going to stand the wait. He knew that the few weeks Legolas spent in the Last Homely House every year were his sole respite from the duties of a young warrior, and he did not grudge his son the well-earned rest. But normally Lindariel did not accompany him. She had gone this time at the invitation of Celebrían.

He heard a soft cough behind him and turned. Almárean, the head of the household, was standing in the doorway.

"My King, the archery trials are scheduled to begin in ten minutes. The Archery Masters want to know if you will attend."

"Has Thorontur returned from Lothlórien?"

"Not yet. He sent word that he was delayed. He will probably be here in a few days."

Thranduil nodded.

"I will go, in that case. Arbellason has gone to secure the eastern border and the Elflings will be disappointed if none of us is there to admire their skill."

Almárean nodded and left. Thranduil stood outside a few minutes more before he collected his cloak and went to the practice fields where the Archery Masters were awaiting his arrival to begin the trials.

The trials were held once a month, and were an occasion for the Archery Masters to assess the progress their young charges had made. The King and the commanders usually made it a point for at least one of them to attend as well, so that they would know what to expect of the next generation of archers.

It had been on one such occasion a couple of centuries previously that Thorontur, watching Legolas make a series of perfect shots, had turned to Thranduil and said in an undertone, "The boy is _mine_."

Thranduil had laughed and said cheerfully, "He will be on routine patrol duty until he can count seven centuries. If you want him to ride with the Colhador, ask me then."

"Ask _you_? What is Arbellason commander of the army for? I will ask _him_."

Thranduil smiled now in recollection. In two hundred years Legolas would be deemed experienced enough to undertake the most dangerous responsibilities of a warrior. As he had told Lindariel, he would be lying if he said he was truly happy about that – a part of him was terrified at the thought of Legolas in the Colhador or the Eastern or the Southern Guard – but a part of him was also satisfied.

He would have had just as much pride in his son had Legolas chosen to be a healer, or anything else for that matter. All the same, he was pleased that Legolas had taken the same path Thranduil himself had done, and that he had braided the thin warrior braids into his son's hair on the day he had completed his training, just as his own father had done for him millennia ago.

Just as Thranduil reached the field where the novices were waiting with their bows, a young _elleth_ ran up to him, looking near tears.

"Rochendilwen!" he said in shock. "What is it, _penneth_? What has upset you so?"

"My King, you must come at once!"

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Nana _– Mum/Mummy

_Elleth_ – Female Elf

_Hîr nîn_ – My lord

_Le hannon_ – Thank you

_Istón_ – I know

_Ellyn_ – Male Elves

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Daeradar_ – Grandfather

_Meleth n__î__n_ – My love

* * *

Ah... Sorry about the cliffie. *g* What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	2. The Arrow

**DISCLAIMER: **Not mine, unfortunately.

Thanks to CAH, JastaElf, XoLikeWoahxO, lauren hedgehog, MDarKspIrIt, Silivren Tinu, n and Seagent Pepper for reviewing the last chapter. You guys are the best!

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for advice, suggestions and patience with questions.

Onward. *g*

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Arrow**

Thranduil ran faster than he had for centuries. He still did not know what had happened, but the younger Elf's tone and manner had left him in no doubt that there was every need for haste.

He followed Rochendilwen around the palace to one of the side gates into the stronghold. It was open, and there were four Elves waiting there – two novice warriors and two captains from the Home Guard. One of the captains pulled Rochendilwen aside and ordered her home in the company of an older _elleth_ hovering nearby.

"What is it?" the King asked apprehensively.

"You will see, _aran nîn_. Feredir, Saeldur, you are to let nobody leave the stronghold no matter what. One of us will return in a few minutes."

The novices nodded and stood aside to let the King and captains pass. Six Elves from the Royal Guard fell in beside them as they made their way outside the stronghold. Thranduil hid his surprise; normally his guards did not follow him around in the vicinity of their home.

He glanced questioningly at the captains, who shook their heads in unison. It would have been funny if their expressions had not been so serious.

In a few minutes, they reached a clearing that was normally used to hold feasts and celebrations. There was a ring of archers surrounding it now, and he could just make out the slender figure of Ellaurë, commander of the Home Guard, standing in the centre. She was staring at something on the ground with a mixture of pity and horror.

The warriors parted to make room for Thranduil. He stepped through the ranks, nodding his acknowledgement –

And stopped short.

Thranduil was a seasoned warrior. He had fought more battles than he could count; he had fought on the slopes of Orodruin, but the sight before him made his stomach turn.

An _elleth_ lay in the middle of the clearing, dark hair tumbling about her face, grey eyes wide open, staring at the sky. A green-fletched arrow was buried in her chest. Thranduil stared at the sight in disbelief for several seconds before he suddenly realized why Ellaurë looked so grim.

"That is an arrow belonging to one of our warriors," he gasped.

* * *

Rochendilwen sat trembling in her chamber, clutching the cup of hot spiced wine that her aunt had insisted on giving her. Her hands were shaking so hard that she was slopping quite a lot of the wine onto her tunic.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and the older _elleth_ got up to answer it. She opened it a crack, and then opened it wider, admitting Thranduil.

"Mídhaer," the king said, inclining his head in greeting. "I would speak to you, if I may."

"Of course, _hîr nîn_."

"Outside," Thranduil said, but as the older Elves were about to leave the room Rochendilwen raised her head.

"No," she said softly. "Say what you must in my presence, my king… _Saes._ I must know the truth. I must know… what has happened."

Thranduil hesitated.

"None will deny you truth, _penneth_, if truth is what you seek. But are you ready for it so soon? Give yourself time; your answers will go nowhere."

"I _must_ know," the younger Elf said, in a voice bordering on hysteria. "_Please._"

Thranduil sighed.

"You have no objection, Mídhaer?"

The _elleth_ thus addressed shook her head.

"Very well then… Valadhiel – I am sorry, but there is no easy way to put this – Valadhiel has gone to Mandos' halls." He paused sympathetically when Rochendilwen, her last, desperate hope dashed, began to sob. Mídhaer put a hand on her niece's shoulder.

"What of my brother?" Rochendilwen whispered, shutting her eyes against the vision in her head… She had slipped out of the stronghold for a walk and had chanced upon the horrific sight of her mother, obviously mortally injured, lying on the ground with her older brother bending over her and Ellaurë, her mouth a grim line, standing nearby.

Thranduil came closer and placed a hand on Rochendilwen's head.

"This may be a shock, _penneth_."

She looked up in horror.

"Is he – has he – gone – to –"

"No," Thranduil said quietly. "Though it might have been better if he had. Rochendilwen… Bregolien killed your mother."

"_No!_" The _elleth_ pushed away from both of them, throwing her head up to glare at the king. "How could you suggest – he would never – he could not –"

"_Penneth_, Ellaurë was there," Thranduil said gently. "She saw it all. Even Bregolien admits to having killed her – although he says it was an accident –"

"What do you mean he _says_ it was an accident? Don't you believe him?"

"I do not believe or disbelieve. I am telling you what has passed. More cannot be said until the Council has met –"

"You are having my brother appear before the Council? But – but that is for _criminals_. Accidents have happened before, and those involved are not brought before the Council every time. You cannot accuse Bregolien of ill intent!"

"_Penneth_, I accuse nobody of anything. Elven blood has been spilt within sight of the stronghold, and I would be a poor king if I did not put this matter before the Council. Bregolien will have every opportunity to speak, I promise you, and so will any Elf of this realm who wishes to put forth an opinion."

* * *

Legolas groaned and buried his head under his pillow as the pounding on his door grew louder.

"Go away, Dan!" he shouted.

"It's not Dan," an aggrieved voice said from the other side of the door. "It's me."

"Go away, Ro!"

There was the sound of the door opening. Legolas opened one eye and looked at his friend.

"What is it? Can't you let an Elf get a decent night's sleep around here?"

Elrohir snorted.

"Your father was right; you should not have taken your oaths as a warrior so soon. You sound like _D__aeradar_. Wake _up_, Legolas." He sat on the edge of the bed. "What happened to your sense of adventure?"

"I've had enough adventures to last me the next century."

"Fine," Elrohir said, pouting. "If you don't want to spend time with us any more just because you're a warrior and you have more _interesting_ things to do –"

That worked, as Elrohir had known it would. Legolas sat up, protesting.

"_S__î__dh_," Elrohir said lightly. "I was only joking. Now that you're awake, come. The forest looks much friendlier by moonlight. Dan has gone to the kitchens to get some food."

Legolas scowled at his friend, but he got out of bed. Elrohir handed him a light cloak to put on over his sleeping tunic, and then they both snuck out of the room and downstairs to the kitchens, where Elladan stood waiting with a covered wicker basket.

"At last!" he said. "I thought you'd never get here!"

"Blame the Elfling," Elrohir said, striding to the back door. "Greenwood's golden prince needs his beauty sleep."

"Not that one!" Elladan said as Legolas picked up the nearest large ladle and aimed for Elrohir. "It'll make too much noise. Use the wooden one next to it."

* * *

A short while later, the moon was shining down on three young _ellyn_ sitting beneath an elm tree by the stream. They exchanged stories and laughter over a meal of cakes, apples, and wine watered just enough to avoid splitting headaches the following morning.

"So what _is_ it like being a valiant warrior?" Elrohir asked, continuing their conversation of the afternoon.

"I wouldn't know yet. All I do now is go on patrols around the stronghold… Help Elflings whose boats overturn in the Forest River, defend the stable from monster pigeons, protect –"

"Wait," Elladan said. "This we _have_ to know – what is this about monster pigeons?"

Legolas chuckled and began the tale. The Elves shifted closer together, so intent on the story that none of them noticed the approaching figure until it pointedly cleared its throat.

All three Elves jumped to their feet and turned.

"Lord… Lord Glorfindel," Legolas said, turning to his friends for help. He saw neither of them, because the twins had both placed themselves behind him.

"You are on your own, _gwador nîn_," Elladan said firmly. "This is entirely your doing."

"It was your idea! _I_ was sleeping in my room and –"

"That's not the point. Glorfindel likes you better than us so if it's _you_ he might not complain to _A__da_."

"But –"

"Quite right," Elrohir said. "So for the greater common good, Legolas, please take the blame and tell Glorfindel it was your fault."

"Glorfindel, as it happens, is not deaf," the older Elf observed wryly.

"Yes, so you know it was entirely Legolas' doing –"

"You were the one who woke me up!"

"But you came willingly! You're making it sound like I dragged you from your room kicking and screaming!"

Glorfindel chuckled.

"It may surprise you to learn that I did not come here to scold you."

The younger Elves turned to stare at him.

"You… you _didn't_?" Elladan said in a tone of such disbelief that Glorfindel laughed again.

"No, Elrondion, I did not. I came to ask if there was wine enough for a tired old warrior and tales to lighten his heart."

Elrohir brightened.

"Of course! Legolas was just telling us about how he valiantly protected Thorontur's horse from monster pigeons."

Legolas felt for his knives, realized that he did not have them, and tackled Elrohir instead.

"Once you've satisfied your honour, Legolas," Glorfindel said, "tell us the pigeon story. And I have been told by my Lord Elrond to instruct you in the art of shooting by sound rather than sight. This would be a good time to start."

* * *

Rochendilwen pulled her chair to the cell bars, sparing a scowl for the guards who had refused to open the door and let her go in to her brother.

"Bregolien?" she whispered. At once one of the shadows in a corner of the cell unfolded itself and leapt to the bars in a single, smooth motion. The _elleth_ raised her lantern, trying to see the prisoner's face in its flickering half-light.

"I didn't mean to do it," the _ellon_ said hoarsely. "I swear to you, I didn't. You _must_ believe me! I – I was – I don't know how it happened; there were orcs in the forest and I _had_ to come back to warn Thranduil. And then she came up behind me without warning; my bow was in my hand and she was running straight at me. I reacted without realizing who she was – " His voice broke. "Say you believe me, _penneth_. That will give me _some_ courage to face what is yet to come."

"I believe you," Rochendilwen said softly. "Of _course_ I believe you, how could I not? I _know_ you; I know you would not cause wanton harm to anybody – and never to _Nana_. Nobody who knows you at all could believe this."

"They all do, though. Ellaurë was so far away, to her it must have looked as though it was deliberate – as though I _meant_ to – but I didn't, I swear to you I didn't. If I'd known –"

"I know."

"Thranduil says I am to appear before the Council."

"I know. They will know you are innocent! I'll tell them you could never have done it – they _know_ you. They cannot possibly convict you!"

"If they do..."

"Then I will prove them wrong," Rochendilwen said fiercely. "If it takes a thousand years, I will prove your innocence to all of Eryn Galen. I will not abandon you."

* * *

Arbellason galloped into the stronghold, threw the reins of his horse at the nearest _ellon_, and ran across the courtyard and into the palace. He barely stopped to return the greetings of the Elves he met on his way to the king's study.

His frantic knocking was answered by Istuion, who let him in and left, shutting the door as he went. Arbellason turned to Thranduil.

"What is it? I came as quickly as I could, as soon as I got your message. You said it was urgent –"

"Valadhiel is dead," Thranduil said without preamble. "And by Bregolien's hand."

"_What!_"

"Yes, I know. That was my initial reaction too."

"But..." Arbellason shook his head. "Bregolien will – he will _never_ forgive himself. Nobody will be able to persuade him it was an accident, and if I know anything of him, he will be blaming himself for eternity... Perhaps we should take him off his patrol duties for a few weeks."

"I am considering taking him off his patrol duties permanently."

Arbellason stared.

"But you think – you cannot mean – he _intended_ to kill her?"

Thranduil groaned and buried his head in his hands.

"You sound just like Rochendilwen. Yes, I _do_ mean he intended to kill her. That is Ellaurë's considered opinion, and for that crime I am having him brought before the Council. But Rochendilwen defends him. Naturally, even _I_ can hardly believe this, and I do not think she will be content with their verdict if it goes against him. I wish Lindariel were here! She would know how to deal with this."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Elleth_ – Female Elf

_Aran n__î__n_ – My King

_H__î__r n__î__n_ – My Lord

_Saes_ – Please

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Daeradar_ – Grandfather

_S__î__dh_ – Peace

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Ellon –_ Male Elf

* * *

TBC. ;-)

What did you think? Please review!


	3. Fears

**Disclaimer:** Not one of those wonderful Elves do I own.

Thanks to Seagent Pepper, XoLikeWoahxO, Silivren Tinu and Damatris for reviewing. You guys are the best. *hugs*

This chapter has had to go un-beta-ed, but I've tried to be careful and hopefully there won't be too many mistakes. ;-) (As always, reviews and concrit welcome.)

Onward!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Fears**

"I wish… Lindariel were here," Thranduil repeated, looking hopelessly around his study.

"Send for her," Arbellason suggested.

"I do not want to spoil her summer. One way or another she will have more than enough to deal with on her return, and Legolas will have his regular patrol duties again. Let them have these weeks of peace while they can."

"Thranduil, this is no trivial matter. This is Kinslaying. Never before has such an abominable crime been committed in this realm. Lindariel will understand that we need her now; she is our Queen. Legolas is no child, either, although you insist on treating him as one. They will not hold it against you. Send for them."

Thranduil shook his head.

"Let Bregolien appear before the Council first. If they find him innocent, then what happened was a tragic accident and we can trust his sister and his aunt to help him through it. If they find him guilty I will send a message to Imladris."

"Can you trust this entirely to the Council? This is no petty dispute or minor offence to be brought before them for arbitration. You know how much politics there is amongst the Councilors even at the best of times! Do you think it likely that for a crime of this magnitude they will able to set aside all emotion and judge wisely and well? And, Thranduil… For something like this, you cannot condemn him if there is even a shred of doubt about his guilt; yet unless his innocence can be irrefutably established he will never be trusted fully by his fellow warriors."

The Elven-king groaned.

"I know all that! But what would you have me do? I am not the Lady Galadriel to look into his mind and know his thoughts."

Arbellason bit his lip.

"Let Bregolien appear before the Council, then, and let him and all witnesses speak in open court. That way nobody can accuse you of injustice. But do not make the Council's conclusions public unless he can prove to everyone's satisfaction that what happened was an accident. If he cannot… If he cannot, we will see about it then. And in the meantime, write to the Queen."

* * *

Celebrían woke with a start.

For a moment she lay in bed, glancing from her still-sleeping husband to the lightening sky just visible through the gap in the curtains. Then, careful not to disturb Elrond, she got to her feet and slipped out into the corridor.

She hesitated briefly before going to Elladan's room, which was at the end of the corridor, and opening the door. Her firstborn was deep in Elven dreams, drapes drawn to prevent any early sunlight from waking him too soon after what, no doubt, had been an eventful night. She shut the door softly.

Celebrían glanced in on Elrohir and Legolas next, finding both of them asleep as well – although, since both of them had west-facing rooms, neither had bothered to draw the curtains shut.

Turning away from Legolas' door, she found Elrond a few feet away, watching her with concern.

"What is it, _meleth nîn_?"

"I do not know. I sensed something… Something dark and foul approaching, casting its shadow on the future."

Elrond put his hands on his shoulders and drew her close.

"Do you know what it is?"

"No… But I am afraid, Elrond."

* * *

_I am sorry to upset your plans for the summer, _meleth nîn_, but I need you now._

Thranduil paused, reading the last sentence again. A puff of wind swept into the room, making the pages flutter. Arbellason looked up from his perusal of a scout report to eye them doubtfully.

"Can you not write Lindariel a _letter_ and leave the epic tales for the bards to compose?"

The Elven-king scowled at his friend.

"I have never had to deal with such a thing before. Perhaps I should tell her that there is no need for Legolas to return as well. He, at least, can have a few weeks of peace."

"Thranduil, just sign and seal the letter. Lindariel will know as well as you do that Legolas' return is unnecessary… And, I think, inadvisable. He will see enough dark deeds when the time comes. If it comes to that, I would recommend sending Rochendilwen away for a few weeks, as soon as Valadhiel's funeral is over – perhaps to the northern border guard. That is safe enough at the moment."

"I have already spoken to her about that. She will not go. She will stay here until Bregolien's fate is decided; she will speak for him before the Council."

"Can you not prevent her?"

"How can I? I have spoken to Mídhaer of this, but Rochendilwen is an adult and it is her right to speak before the Council if she wishes."

* * *

Legolas slipped into his mother's room. She was standing on the balcony; she turned and beckoned to him to join her. He dropped his bow and quiver on a table as he passed it, noting her slight frown. It was no secret that the idea of battle did not please her in the slightest.

"Archery practice again?" she asked, with a deceptive smile.

"Would you have me let myself become slack, _Nana_?"

"Become slack? With Glorfindel here? That would be unlikely indeed, _penneth_." She looked at him with a wistful smile. "It seems such a short time ago that you were an Elfling still, running to me when something frightened you. And now you are taller than I am."

"Is something wrong?"

"I have not seen you so happy and carefree for years, Legolas. Would you… Do you… Legolas, it is true that we must keep our defences strong and not let these times of peace lull us into a false sense of security, but there is no pressing need for you to…" She trailed off, sighed, and took his hands. "What I am trying to say, Legolas, is that if you want to stay here for a few seasons before you return home, Thranduil and I will understand. We know it is not easy for you."

"_Nana_," the young _ellon_ said quietly, "I have never regretted my duties."

"You are young, and your duties do not yet weigh heavily upon you, _ion nîn_. The time will come when they will."

"Are you encouraging me to shirk them?" Legolas asked with a grin.

"Impudent child! I am suggesting no such thing. I only want you to know that if ever the time comes when you need a few years' respite from patrols and archery, you need not fear that your _Ada_ and I will disapprove."

* * *

Thranduil was still struggling with the last line of the letter when there was a knock at the door. Arbellason opened it.

"My king," Istuion said, coming into the room, "the full Council is here, except for Lord Thorontur. Word has been sent to him, but he will not be able to return for three days, at least. Do you want to wait for him?"

"Of course," Thranduil said, surprised that Istuion should even have asked the question. "I would never decide something so important without hearing the advice of _all_ my Councilors. We will wait for Thorontur to return… With luck, Lindariel should be here soon after. I am going to send a messenger to Imladris today."

"My king, the captain of the guard is here to see you. Apparently Bregolien insists he will not wait. He wants to state his case to the Council now."

"Perhaps he fears Thorontur will be against him," Arbellason murmured. "They have never been very good friends."

Thranduil shook his head.

"Whatever Bregolien fears, he will have to wait. I am not going to have him tried by an incomplete Council. Send the captain in. I will speak to him."

Istuion nodded and left, returning a moment later with the captain of the guard. He bowed to Thranduil before taking the chair beside Arbellason's.

"My king, Istuion must have told you why I am here."

"He has," Thranduil said. "You can tell Bregolien that he can state his case to the entire Council when Thorontur returns. It should not be long."

"He will not wait, my king. He says it is his right under your law to present himself in open court on any day of the year. His sister also argues on his behalf… She is most insistent. She says that she will appear before the Council in open court whether or not you give Bregolien leave to do so."

"It might do no harm to let him come and say what he wants," Arbellason offered. "We can summon him again after Thorontur returns, and we can ask any questions we have then."

Thranduil hesitated.

"I agree with Lord Arbellason, my king," the captain urged. "There is no need to make a decision until Lord Thorontur returns, but if Bregolien is allowed to speak to the Council it may calm him down."

"Very well," the Elven-king said at last. "Bring him to court this afternoon."

* * *

"We will not be able to leave with you as we hoped," Elladan said. "_Ada_ wants us here until autumn. But we should be able to get away while the High Pass is still open, so we will spend the winter with you in Eryn Galen."

Legolas grinned.

"That will be good enough. I have been exploring with Rochendilwen and Saeldur since you last visited, and there are plenty of interesting places that _Ada_ and Arbellason pretend are dangerous. Do you remember the stream that cuts across a corner of the palace garden?"

"Do we _want_ to remember it?" Elrohir asked.

"Of course you do. It is a beautiful stream. We followed it back to the source. It was a bit of a difficult climb –"

"You followed it up into the mountains?"

"Didn't I just say it was a difficult climb? Of course _Ada_ was angry, but that was nothing compared to how furious Bregolien was. _Ada_ calmed down after he realized nobody was hurt."

"You know, Elfling," Elrohir said thoughtfully, "sometimes I think Bregolien does not like you."

Legolas chuckled and rolled onto his stomach, grinning up at the oak tree in whose shade the three _ellyn_ were sprawled.

"I _know_ he does not like me," he said cheerfully. "I don't think he likes anyone. After the stream incident he went on for _days_ about how we are a bad influence on his sister. And it is really not fair – we were all unharmed, and in any case _she_ was the one who wanted to follow the stream in the first place." He shook his head. "Arbellason gave us all more shifts on patrol duty. He said if we had too much youthful enthusiasm we might as well spend it where it would be useful."

"And you enjoyed your punishment so much that you want to compound your error by leading Ro and me into mischief with you?" Elladan asked dryly.

"You _know_ you want to come."

"Ro, how did the sweet little Elfling we knew turn into this wicked creature out to get us murdered by his father?"

"_Ada_ will not murder you!"

"No?" Elrohir demanded. "What about that time after your two hundredth begetting day when you insisted, despite our protests, on trying to climb up the wall to your balcony? You were barely sober! When you fell your father thought it was our fault for letting you try it!"

"Yes, but you are still alive, are you not?"

"No thanks to you, Elfling. I don't recall your doing anything at all to help us."

"Well, I'd just taken a fall, hadn't I? I was injured and –"

"Let me explain something to you, Legolas," Elladan said solemnly. "Once you have claimed to be 'fine', that is it. You are 'fine' and fully accountable for your actions. You cannot change your mind years later and say that you were, in fact, not 'fine'."

"Do not change the subject!"

* * *

Thranduil was uncomfortably aware of the empty chair where Lindariel usually sat. There were far more Elves in court than usual; news travelled fast, and half the realm was waiting to see what Bregolien had to say for himself.

"This is madness," Arbellason whispered. "Thranduil, we will have a riot on our hands. The guards cannot handle a crowd this size if it grows restive."

"I am hoping it will not come to that. Have you spoken to Ellaurë?"

"She said she could not come but she would send all the soldiers she could spare. I spoke to Rochendilwen as well; I do not think she should come here today. The crowd may turn against her if things go ill. But she insists…" Arbellason shook his head in despair. "Why can we not have some tyranny here, Thranduil?"

The Elven-king almost laughed, but stopped himself just in time. As he opened his mouth to respond, the doors swung open and a herald came in.

"Bregolien is here, _aran nîn_."

Thranduil's mouth was suddenly dry.

"He may come."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_M__eleth nîn_ – My love

_Nana_ – Mum/Mummy

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Ellon_ (plural _ellyn_) – Male Elf

_Ion nîn_ – My son

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Aran nîn_ – My king

* * *

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	4. Court

**Disclaimer: **Nothing's mine.

Thanks to Eressie, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Lauren Hedgehog and Silivren Tinu for reviewing.

On with the story! I hope you enjoy this chapter. *g*

* * *

**Chapter 4: Court**

Bregolien stalked into the hall with his head high, ignoring the guards on either side of him and the dead silence of the Elves who had crowded in to watch. Behind him came Rochendilwen, looking nervous but determined.

At a gesture from Thranduil, Istuion got to his feet.

"Bregolien of Eryn Galen –"

"Bregolien Mormerilion," the young warrior said coolly. "That is how it translates in Sindarin, I believe."

Arbellason sighed; Bregolien was always stubbornly insistent on using his father's name, but he was doing himself no favour by reminding both the Council and the observing throng that his father had been one of the Avari, one who had been killed while attempting to lay siege to the Wood-elves' home.

"Bregolien of Eryn Galen," Istuion repeated calmly, as though there had been no interruption, "it was your wish to speak to the King's Council. You are reminded that this is not your trial and you are not yet called upon to make your defence. The time for that will come later. Do you still wish to speak?"

"I do."

Istuion sat.

Bregolien came forward until he was less than a yard away from the dais where the King and Council sat. A low murmur came from the crowd, petering rapidly into silence when Bregolien began to speak.

"_Aran nîn_," Bregolien said with a formal bow. "My lords. I am aware that I will be summoned before the Council when Lord Thorontur returns from Lórien, but I must speak now. My king, my lords, I stand here accused of the abhorrent crime of Kinslaying – and the wanton murder of my mother, no less. I will not deny that she died by my hand, but I swear to you that I meant her no harm. It was a moment of carelessness, one for which I will never forgive myself; yet I had no ill intent."

The silence of the crowd gave way to a low buzz of whispers that sounded distinctly hostile. From the glances flitting back and forth from the dais where the Council sat to the Elf standing before it, it was clear that not all the hostility was directed at Bregolien. He had few friends, but there was never any shortage of Elves to oppose anything their king did simply on principle.

"My king, I do not ask for compassion, although I had hoped for it in this hour of grief. I only ask the Council not to treat my ill fortune as my ill intent. I know I do not have many to stand for me in this court, but a fair hearing would be given even to a Man in this realm. Surely I deserve no less."

Thranduil heard a faint scratching sound from beside him. He lowered his gaze imperceptibly to read Arbellason's scribbled note.

_He is trying to gain the sympathy of the crowd. Get rid of him as quickly as you can._

Thranduil nodded minutely. Bregolien was surely aware that this exercise was pointless as far as the Council was concerned; the only possible explanation for his determination to speak in public was a hope to swing general opinion in his favour, making it more difficult for the Council to find him guilty.

"Have you anything further to say?" the Elven-king asked.

"Nothing, save that I hope you will believe me. My crime is terrible, _aran nîn_, but not nearly as terrible as that of which I am accused."

The crowd was distinctly restive now; the guards were beginning to look nervous. They had their hands on their sword pommels, but Thranduil did not want to see arms raised against Elves in his halls. He was sure the guards did not want it either. There had been enough madness already.

"You may go," he said, gesturing to the guard captain.

As the guards closed around him to escort him back to the dungeons, Bregolien looked Thranduil straight in the eye.

"Do you believe me, _aran nîn_?"

"The Council will decide whom to believe. For now, you may go."

"The Council will decide, my king, but do _you_ believe me?"

Bregolien's voice bordered on plaintive, and for a moment Thranduil hesitated on the edge of agreement. Elbereth knew that if it had been Legolas standing before him with those beseeching eyes Thranduil would have abandoned all logic and done anything his son had asked.

Arbellason cleared his throat. Thranduil jerked out of his reverie, his eyes hardening. Most Elves were incapable of a crime so foul, but from what Thranduil knew of Bregolien, it was just possible.

"You may go."

"By your leave, my king!" Rochendilwen stepped forward. "If I may, I wish to speak."

Arbellason groaned softly.

"I hoped she would forget."

* * *

"Parry, Legolas! _Parry!_ Good! Now thrust! No, not like that! You're leaving yourself open! Stop! Stop, both of you!"

Legolas and Elrohir stopped and stepped away from each other, Legolas flushing slightly. Glorfindel and Elladan came up to them.

"I do not understand, Elfling," Glorfindel said. "You are skilled enough with your knives, and more than skilled with your bow. Why does the broadsword present you with such difficulties?"

Legolas sighed.

"It is too unwieldy a weapon for me, my lord. _Ada_ is not entirely pleased about that; he favours the sword and I think my lack of skill with it bewilders him, more than anything else."

The Elf-lord chuckled.

"We will see if we cannot turn you into a passable enough swordsman to satisfy Thranduil. But for now, leave the sword and bring your knives. I came here to judge a sparring match. Instruction in the art of the blade can wait until later."

Legolas made the change obediently. Glorfindel and Elladan went back to the edge of the training field.

"Are you ready?"

Legolas nodded and raised the knife in his right hand in a formal salute. Elrohir did the same thing. They circled each other slowly, exchanging furtive grins as they anticipated the thoroughness with which Glorfindel would insist on their analyzing their errors later.

"A silver brooch to a new hunting knife says we will be here until dusk ere Glorfindel is satisfied," Elrohir whispered.

"I will take that," Legolas responded with a grin.

"Begin!" Glorfindel called, putting an effective end to their conversation.

* * *

"You wish to speak, Rochendilwen?" Thranduil asked, suppressing a sigh.

"Yes, my king."

"_Penneth_, you realize that this is not a trial and you will have every opportunity to speak at the trial if that is your desire?"

"I wish to speak now, my king."

Seeing no way out, the Elven-king said, "So be it. Speak."

"_Le hannon, aran nîn._" She stepped forward, her cheeks colouring slightly under the gaze of scores of Elves. "My king, I know little of the law, but I do know that my brother would never wantonly commit the crime of which he stands accused. I know him, my king, as you never could. I know he would never deliberately harm our mother. I know he is innocent."

"As I already said, this is not a trial, Rochendilwen. The time to speak of his guilt or innocence is when the Council is convened to pass judgement."

"In this I fear I cannot not bring myself to abide by the judgement of the Council, my king. Whatever decision it may reach, I know the fact of Bregolien's innocence and I will not be shaken in this knowledge, nor will I accept or stand for the acceptance of any unjust conclusions that are made."

Rochendilwen was drawing more than one disapproving stare, and not only from the watching throng. Thranduil sensed the frowns of the Councilors; in the periphery of his vision, Mídhaer gave a faint start of worry. The young _elleth _was treading dangerously close to sedition. He was willing to make allowances for her state of mind and the tragedy she had suffered, but he knew that her remarks would have been heard and noted, and before long there would be Elves trying to take advantage of her grief by involving her in the plotting and politics of court.

He heard the scratching again and glanced at Arbellason's note.

_She does not know what she is doing. Ellaurë can keep her occupied until this business is over._

"Have you anything else to say?"

Rochendilwen shook her head and turned to go. As the guards seized Bregolien, however, he pulled himself free and turned.

"My king, you cannot truly believe this! Please, you must stop this. You must believe I had… I had not such evil thoughts as those for which I am now held accountable. You must believe I would never do anything to bring disrepute to your realm. I have been a warrior of Greenwood for centuries! You cannot give credence to these rumours."

"Leave, Bregolien," Thranduil said tightly. "The Council will decide what is rumour and what is fact."

The guards finally succeeded in pulling the young _ellon_ away, but before he turned the expression in his eyes hardened to one of such unbridled menace that Thranduil nearly recoiled. The last time he had seen a gaze that vengeful had been on the Dagorlad.

"I do not want that one against me," Arbellason murmured. "But that, I fear, is what is coming."

* * *

Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas were sprawled by a stream watching the sunset.

"Do you suppose it is true?" Elladan said suddenly. "What everyone says about Sauron not having been truly defeated, that he is only biding his time to return?"

"I hope not," Legolas said soberly, his eyes on the horizon. "Much had to be sacrificed to defeat him once. But I fear that it _is_ true, and he does indeed only lie in wait until his hour should come." He shot a sideways glance at Elladan. "_Ada_ believes that, anyway. That is why we train in arms and patrol the forest when half the court says it is a waste of time and resources and the other half calls it a Sindarin affectation."

"I fear your _Ada_ is right, Elfling," Elrohir murmured from Legolas' left. "And he is not the only one. I do not believe there is a single Elf old enough to remember the Last Alliance who does not believe that he will return… soon."

Elladan rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky.

"Aye. _Ada_ and _Nana_ certainly do not think Middle-earth is safe; whenever Arwen visits Lórien she has an escort fit to fend off an attacking army."

Legolas sighed deeply.

"Will we never live free of fear?"

"In the Blessed Realm perhaps," Elladan said. "But even for our time in Middle-earth there is hope. If we are constant in our vigilance and our courage does not falter, we will fight on the slopes of Mount Doom again and defeat him again."

"Of one thing we can be certain," Elrohir put in, pushing himself into a sitting position. "If circumstances force us into battle in the Enemy's lands, at the very least we will be facing it together."

Grins from his brother and his friend answered him. Legolas said, "Arwen will not be pleased that you leave her out of your plans for battle and glory."

Elladan chuckled.

"Arwen? Battle? You know how she feels about bloodletting. She is no likelier to want any part of a battle before Mount Doom than _Ada_ is to permit it if she does."

"Perhaps we will have a law-brother by then," Elrohir suggested. "And _he_ will be helping us keep the Elfling out of trouble."

Legolas reached for his knives, remembered that he did not have them, and settled for pushing Elrohir over onto the grass. Elrohir retaliated with vigour. Elladan grimaced, getting out of the way of their flailing limbs.

"A fine picture of young Elven nobility _you_ make! What if a Dwarf comes by?"

The brawl ceased, both Elrohir and Legolas turning their attention to the older twin. When they spoke, however, it became clear that each was concerned about a completely different issue.

"_You_ are not exactly a model of propriety yourself," Elrohir growled.

"You have _Dwarves_ in Imladris?" Legolas demanded.

* * *

Thranduil had no idea why he could not sleep. He sat up in bed, went to the broad window, and peered out into the night. The stars were bright. He saw faint shadows as owls and bats swooped past on their nightly prowling.

Abruptly, the Elven-king left his apartments. He hastened down the corridor to the last door at the end, although he could not have said why he did so. He knew perfectly well that the occupant of those rooms was in Imladris, no doubt engaged in some illicit nighttime revelry with the sons of Elrond.

He pushed the door open softly, out of habit. His feet made no noise as they traced the familiar path through the sitting-room to the bed chamber beyond. The bed had not been slept in for days; the assiduous daily cleaning on which Galion insisted had ensured that the room had no trace of its usual litter of bowstrings, fletching feathers and assorted scraps of paper; the window, which Legolas would have left wide open, was shuttered. Thranduil looked around, for once longing to see the untidiness that he normally deplored.

On an impulse, he crossed the room and opened the window. He could not suppress his soft laughter at the sight of the ivy creeping up the wall. Galion did not approve of ivy on palace walls, but Legolas had spent some time trying to encourage a growth sturdy enough to allow him to climb in and out of his room. Evidently his son had succeeded.

With a soft sigh, Thranduil shut the window again. Trying though his son's playfulness and insatiable curiosity could sometimes be, even more terrible was the thought that the world might all too soon rob him of both.

The Elven-king left his son's apartments, but stopped short when he saw one of the palace guards waiting for him in the corridor.

"What is it?"

"My king, it is Bregolien," the guard said. "He is giving his minders… trouble… And he insists he wants to see you." After a pause the Elf added, "Now."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Aran nîn_ – My king

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Le hannon_ – Thank you

_Elleth _– Female Elf

_Ellon _– Male Elf

_Nana_ – Mum/Mummy

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Awful? Please review!


	5. By Moonlight

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf, unfortunately.

Thanks to awaylaughingonafastcamel, Lauren Hedgehog and Silivren Tinu for reviewing. You are the best. *g*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 5: By Moonlight**

"Tell me, my king, what do you love best?"

Thranduil frowned. Perhaps it because of was the lateness of the hour, perhaps it was because of the odd shadows cast by the lamps, but Bregolien did not seem entirely sane.

"What do you mean?"

"It is a simple question, my king. What do you love best? Or, rather, _whom _do you love best? Is it our Elven-queen, Lindariel the fair? Or Thorontur's favourite young archer, our little prince? Which of them is it, my king?"

"What do you want?"

"I want an answer to my question."

"Bregolien, try to remember that you are under arrest," Arbellason growled. "We try to make allowances for your peculiarities under normal circumstances, but this is not the place, and the middle of the night is definitely not the time. What do you want?"

"I want to make you understand!" Bregolien snapped. "_Think_, my king. Tell me, if somebody accused you of the willful murder of your wife or your son, what would you do? There was a terrible accident, and I own my fault in that; but I would not _wantonly_ shoot my mother any more than you would willingly run Legolas through with your sword."

Thranduil got to his feet, eyes blazing with a light that seemed to unnerve even Arbellason.

"If I had run Legolas through with my sword, willingly or unwillingly, I do not believe I would care what was done to me afterwards." He nodded to the guards. "Give him food, and permit his family to meet him if they wish. Nobody else is to see him or speak to him, and he is to send and receive no letters, until his trial is over."

"How long will that take?" Bregolien demanded.

Arbellason sighed.

"It will begin in a few days. The Council should come to a decision within the month. It is a very small fraction of an immortal life. Now get some rest, and try not to make things any worse for yourself than they are already."

* * *

The clash of steel on steel was loud in the stillness.

"Lord Glorfindel," Legolas gasped as he just managed to parry another thrust from Elladan, "can we not continue tomorrow?"

"Certainly not," Glorfindel said. "If the three of you can stay up all night getting into mischief, you can stay up all night working on your swordsmanship. At least everyone will know where you are. Besides," he added, as a well-timed blow from Elladan sent Legolas sprawling, "the practice will do you good."

He stepped out of the way as Legolas rolled over and got to his feet just in time to block Elladan's sword.

"Very good. Remember, speed matters. The fastest swordsman has an advantage, just like the fastest archer." Glorfindel circled the combatants. "If you are using knives, Legolas, you will need precision. As an archer you will not be wearing cumbersome armour or carrying a shield, so your life and your fate in battle will depend on how quickly you can cut and duck."

Without warning, the Elf-lord tossed a sword at Elrohir.

"Join them."

"On whose side?"

"On your own side. Hurry up!"

* * *

"My lady!"

Rochendilwen, her face visibly pale, nodded to the guard.

"I wish to see my brother."

"My lady, the hour is late. It might be better if you returned in the morning. You can see him then."

"I wish to see him _now_." Rochendilwen drew in a shaky breath. "The king gave me his word that I would be allowed to speak to him whenever I wanted, at least until the trial."

The guard hesitated. On the one hand, he _had_ been told that Rochendilwen was to be allowed access to her brother if she wanted it. On the other, it was past midnight. There were soldiers outside Bregolien's door, but the rest of the palace was being guarded by a bare handful of Elves.

"Let me through," Rochendilwen insisted.

"Very well, my lady. I must ask you to be brief."

"Do not worry," the _elleth_ said with a mirthless smile. "I will be brief. I only want a moment with him, and then I will be gone."

The guard let her through into the cell where Bregolien sat slumped on a low bench. She paused in the doorway.

"If you will leave us alone for a moment..."

"I was told nothing about leaving you with him unguarded," the Elf protested. "The king and Lord Arbellason will not like it. Forgive me, my lady, but I cannot permit you to be alone with him."

"He will do me no harm."

"All the same, my lady... I am not even certain I should have let you see him now. I cannot leave you alone."

"I will take responsibility for whatever happens."

"I do not believe the king would see it that way if there were any... incidents."

"Please," Rochendilwen begged. "I only want a moment alone with my brother. Surely that is not too much to ask? You will be right outside, as you have been all this time. There is no way he can escape." The guard hesitated. "Please."

He shook his head.

"I cannot believe I am saying this, but very well. Lord Arbellason will have my head if he finds out. Two minutes only, my lady, and then I shall return and you must leave. And, please, not a word of this to anybody."

As soon as the door had shut behind the guard, Bregolien sat up straight.

"Have you got it?" he murmured in a tone too soft to carry through the oaken door.

"Yes." Rochendilwen ran to him, palming something from her sleeve. "Yes, but – are you sure? I do not want –"

"Hush, _penneth_," he said soothingly, running a hand over her head. "This is only a precaution. You do understand? I could not live in the knowledge that my fellows believed me guilty of wanting _Nana's_ death. Thranduil was here some time age; he thinks I am guilty and there is no moving him. And you know the King's Council... If they decide I am guilty there will be no moving them either, and I do not want to spend my life in this cell. It will be the best way out for me."

"Do you not trust me? I know you are innocent. I will ensure that they know it as well."

"If you do, _muinthel nîn_, then I will have no cause to use it. But should you fail... Would you have me live in disgrace? Give it to me now... We do not have much time. He will return soon."

Rochendilwen put a small but, in the hands of a skilled enough warrior, lethal dagger in her brother's hands. It sparkled in the lamplight for a moment before vanishing up his sleeve.

"There, now," he said softly. "It is done. You need not fear, _penneth_. I trust you."

* * *

"Do you think _Nana_ has asked Glorfindel to kill us?" Elrohir gasped when the three young _ellyn_ staggered into Legolas' room nursing sundry bruises and aching limbs. Glorfindel, after frowning and muttering over their technique, had insisted on each of them sparring with him individually.

"I do not know what we could have done to annoy _anybody_ so much," Legolas groaned, collapsing into an armchair and groping for the jug of water that was normally left on the table. He poured himself a cup and handed the jug to Elrohir, who had decided to sprawl on the floor instead of attempting to reach a chair. "We have been very good so far this summer. We have not been outside the boundaries of Imladris even once!"

"Perhaps that is why," Elladan said thoughtfully, taking the jug from his brother. "Have you noticed that everyone is _more _suspicious of us when we do nothing? Perhaps we should sneak off to a village of Men and get thoroughly and disgracefully drunk on their ale. _Then Ada_ and _Nana_ might believe that we are well."

"That will have to wait," Legolas said firmly. "It will be weeks before I am fit to go anywhere."

Elrohir grinned. "Knowing you, Elfling, you will be up and about tomorrow and ready to try something foolish and exciting the next day. I think Dan is right. We should go to a village of Men."

"I do not like their brew," Legolas muttered unhappily, causing his friends to go into gales of laughter.

"What do you expect?" Elladan got out, when at last he was able to speak. "Do you go into their inns expecting to find the kind of wine that is served here, or at the Elven-king's table? In a Mannish village you must expect Mannish ale."

"Had you had as much experience of the world as we do," Elrohir added, "you would have known this, Elfling."

Legolas eyed the dark-haired Elf balefully.

"I grant that I am too weary to get out of my chair, Ro," he muttered, "but I promise you I can still throw a knife."

"Knives and arrows are the weapons of children," Elrohir scoffed. "When you feel energetic enough to wield a sword, I will begin to worry."

"Ro," Elladan said, snickering, "if he _does_ manage to muster the enthusiasm to pick up his bow, I do not know you."

"You wound me, brother! I had not expected you to be so treasonous."

"Treasonous," Elladan agreed. "But _alive_. Alive, moreover, without arrows sticking out of me. I would like this situation to continue. Therefore you will excuse me if I am not assiduous in your defence. You can do as you please, Legolas, but I would advise you not to kill him. There is no need to make the effort, since it seems that Glorfindel will kill us all in any case."

* * *

Bregolien estimated, with, as it would later turn out, remarkable accuracy, that it was around an hour to dawn. He got to his feet slowly, glancing around the cell. If once he did this, there would be no turning back.

His lip curled. He did not _want_ to turn back.

He went to the door and banged on it. There was a pause, the sound of footsteps, and then it was opened. A pair of guards stood outside.

"What is it?"

"I am thirsty."

With that he turned, went back to the bench and sat down. Then he waited.

He was a highly skilled warrior, one of the finest swordsmen of the realm, and the guards had no idea he was armed. All he needed was –

"Here." One of the guards came into the room with a covered pitcher. "Do you want anything else?"

"Nothing." Bregolien went to take the pitcher from him. "_Le hannon, mellon nîn._ I will tell you if I need anything further."

The guard nodded. Just as he turned to go, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was followed by the flash of steel. He reached for his sword, but Bregolien was too quick. In seconds, before he could cry out for help or alert his companions, it was over.

Bregolien lowered the still for m to the floor and went to the door.

* * *

Legolas had not quite fallen asleep. When he heard a soft step outside his door he got to his feet to see who it was.

Celebrían was standing in the corridor outside.

"My lady? Is something wrong?"

She looked him up and down with a slight smile.

"I see Glorfindel has spared nothing in his training. I believe the last time the three of you were under the same roof for so long without devastation resulting was when you counted a bare handful of summers, _penneth_."

Legolas flushed, and she laughed.

"I am sorry I woke you. I was trying to be quiet, but apparently I cannot be quiet enough to escape detection by one of Greenwood's young archers."

"I was not asleep, my lady."

She looked at him more carefully, finally letting out her breath in a small sigh.

"Lindariel is right. You should not be a warrior yet." A hand was laid on his shoulder. "I sense danger, Legolas. Even now Middle-earth has many things of which it is good not to speak and better not to know. But remember that the greatest danger of all is your own despair."

"M-my lady?" he stammered, slightly alarmed at the turn the conversation had taken.

"You have courage, Thranduilion. Have faith in yourself." She squeezed his shoulder. "And now, _penneth_, get some rest. I know Glorfindel plans a harder day for you tomorrow."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Elleth_ – Female Elf

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Muinthel nîn_ – My sister

_Nana_ – Mum/Mummy

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Le hannon, mellon nîn._ - Thank you, my friend.

* * *

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	6. Away from Home

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to the Professor.

Thanks to Eressie, Silivren Tinu, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Muse10, Nek0Nek0 and XoLikeWoahxO for reviewing. *g*

And the action really begins with this chapter... I hope you like it!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Away from Home**

Thranduil jerked out of dreams to a frantic pounding on his door. He leapt from his bed. The faint glow of the sky through the window indicated that it was just past dawn. Wondering what could possibly have happened, he flung the door open.

Arbellason was on the threshold, his warrior braids dishevelled and his breath coming rapidly.

"Thranduil, Bregolien has escaped."

"_What?_ How?"

"I do not know!" Arbellason strode into the room, looking around but clearly seeing nothing. "When the guards on the morning shift went to take over they found the night guards dead. A knife, it appears, although I do not know how he could possibly have had one – he was thoroughly searched for weapons. I have just been to see them. The guards have clearly been dead some hours."

"Is there any sign of where he has gone?"

"None. I am having the palace searched, although I doubt he is still here, and I have sent riders out to search the forest and the mountains."

"Have you warned Mídhaer? He may try to contact Rochendilwen."

"Yes. I sent for her; she may be waiting in your study already. And I have set a guard around her house. If he _does_ try to get to Rochendilwen, he will be caught. But somehow, I do not think he will."

"The families of the dead?"

"We can go and meet them now, before we go to Mídhaer. I only hope it is not too late to stop him."

Thranduil said nothing, dressing as quickly as he could. After a moment's pause, he strapped on his sword-belt over his tunic. It had been a very long time since he had had to use that sword to defend himself, but it appeared that the situation was about to change.

The Elven-king could not repress a shudder of apprehension.

* * *

"Are you sure this will work?" Elrohir hissed.

"Not if you make that much noise!" Legolas murmured. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"You had to ask that question!" Elladan growled. "Now I do not doubt that we shall find out. I will tell you one thing that could go wrong: _Ada_ and Glorfindel might not be inclined to see the joke later."

"We are only going riding! We will return by tomorrow morning. It is perfectly safe. Besides, do you want to stay and find out what training Glorfindel has in mind for us today?"

Elladan looked horrified.

"Well, I suppose the worst that can happen is that you will fall of your horse and break something, and that is a common enough occurrence that nobody need worry –"

"I have never fallen off my horse!" Legolas protested indignantly.

"Since you have injured yourself in every other way possible, it is only a matter of time before you do. I wish you would hurry up about it; then we need not worry about when it will happen."

"We could push him," Elrohir suggested. "That would also keep him out of trouble for the rest of his stay. _Ada_ might even thank us."

Legolas glared at his friends as the three young Elves slipped out of the house and made their way across the courtyard to the stables. The sun had just risen, so the guards would see nothing suspicious in their desire for an early morning ride. Their parents _would_ be suspicious when they did not return for dinner, but not unduly worried, since they had spent nights camping in the countryside before and had returned without incident.

Well, without _serious_ incident.

They led their horses from their stalls, not bothering to saddle them.

"Are you sure of this settlement?" Legolas asked as he mounted. "I have never seen any Mannish village between here and the Hithaeglir."

"It is not exactly a village," Elrohir said. "They are travellers. From what I have heard, they trade on both sides of the Hithaeglir, crossing the High Pass just before it closes. They have a summer camp near the mountains, but you are unlikely to find it unless you are looking for it – it is not on the path."

"Do they welcome visitors?"

"They welcome anybody who is willing to buy their wares. I think even _you_ will like their ale."

* * *

"My king." Mídhaer got to her feet.

Thranduil waved her into her seat again.

"You know what has happened?"

"Only that Bregolien fled his cell. I... The Elf who brought me the message asked that Rochendilwen not be informed yet."

"He slew his guards," Arbellason said grimly. "Whether or not he spilled Elven blood earlier, he has done so now. I have every last Elf I can spare out looking for him. I must warn you, Mídhaer, he will find it very difficult to explain _this_."

"Rochendilwen will take it hard."

"I know," Thranduil said. "I fear not even she will be able to believe in him now." He hesitated. "You may tell her now, if you wish, but it might be better to wait until we know more, one way or another. He seems to have taken his horse with him, but unless he has gone into the mountains, the trees will be able to locate him for us. Unfortunately he knows the forest paths very well... Wherever he plans to go, he will be able to get there in far less time than those pursuing him."

"It is not those pursuing him who concern me," Arbellason murmured, "but those he might pursue. He has had more than half the night."

* * *

"Has anybody seen the children?" Celebrían asked. "They have been remarkably quiet all morning. This is unlike them."

"Glorfindel told me they have gone riding," Lindariel responded, causing Elrond and Erestor to chuckle softly. "Apparently the guards saw them on their way out."

"I do not know if I should be worried or relieved," Celebrían muttered. "I have been expecting their good behaviour to give out soon. They have stayed within the boundaries of Imladris and done nothing foolish or dangerous for weeks."

"Going riding is hardly foolish or dangerous," Elrond pointed out. "They will be safe enough unless they go out of their way to locate and challenge brigands and outlaws, and, even if they do, you could do better by worrying about the outlaws. I believe we can have full faith in their battle-skills now."

"Not all battles are won by the sword and the bow," Celebrían muttered, making Lindariel giggle at the expression on Elrond's face.

"You sound more like your mother every day, _meleth nîn_," the Elf-lord told his wife.

"That is well. At least _one_ of us needs to be sensible, and since it is clearly not going to be you..."

Elrond's response was lost in the peals of laughter from Lindariel and Erestor.

* * *

Arbellason stared at the Elf before him in shock.

"You... you are certain of this?"

"The trees were very clear, my lord. They say they sensed his intentions and tried to warn Tálagor, but he did not react swiftly enough. In any case..." The Elf hesitated. "In any case, my lord, there are very few warriors skilled enough to defeat Bregolien in single combat. Tálagor had no chance."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Not long, my lord." The Elf glanced at the sun, which had begun its downward slope. "The trees tell me it was around noon when it happened. If we send riders after him at once –"

"They will never catch him," Arbellason said, biting his lip. "He knows the forest too well, better than any except..."

He trailed off, mind racing. The only Elves who might know the forest beyond the immediate environs of the palace better than Bregolien did were the young novice warriors who spent most of their spare time racing each other in the woods or climbing up dangerous paths in the mountains.

"My lord?"

"Find Saeldur," Arbellason said, thinking quickly. "Aeroniel, Eredhion and Voronwë, any of their friends who is in the vicinity. Take them off whatever duty they are on and tell them I want to see them in the king's study at once. And then _you _go and get some rest."

He left the room, pausing only to send a page running for Mídhaer and Rochendilwen, and made his way to Thranduil's study.

* * *

Rochendilwen knew something was wrong as soon as her aunt told her that the king had sent for them. She put away the book she had been trying to read, unsuccessfully, for the past several hours, and followed Mídhaer outside.

Arbellason was with Thranduil in his study; as soon as they entered, it was the commander who spoke.

"Sit down, _penneth_. We have something to tell you."

He glanced at Thranduil. Rochendilwen, following his gaze, saw that the king looked unusually worried. He was paler than normal and there was no amused sparkle in his blue eyes.

"My king."

"Bregolien escaped last night, _penneth_," Thranduil said with surprising gentleness. "He slew the Elves who were guarding him and slipped out."

"He _killed_ them?"

It was Arbellason who answered.

"Yes. He seems to have had a knife or a dagger on him, although we do not know how he got it."

None of the older Elves missed the sudden flush that coloured Rochendilwen's face at that. Arbellason and Thranduil exchanged a glance, but neither commented on it.

"We do know something of where he is now," Thranduil said. "We have just received word that he caught up with and slew the messenger I had sent to Imladris. I will have messengers sent out again as soon as possible, but in the meantime Bregolien has a head start. I am going to send warriors after him." He paused. "Rochendilwen, I hope you understand. I can take no risks. They will have orders to bring him back alive if possible, but to kill him if it is not."

The young _elleth_ nodded jerkily.

"Yes, my king."

Arbellason appeared about to say something further, but just then there was a knock on the door.

Mídhaer opened it to admit a handful of young Elves clad in the green and brown of warriors. They filed into the room silently, gazes flickering between Rochendilwen and Thranduil.

"You will have heard of Bregolien's escape by now?" Arbellason asked them, and then went on without waiting for an answer. "We believe he is heading for Imladris, and it is imperative that we intercept him before he gets there. He knows the paths through the forest well enough to reach the Last Homely House ahead of any messenger, especially considering that he has several hours' advantage. Now, I am hoping that your lamentable habit of racing through forsaken corners of the forest will _finally_ prove useful. You will have to help us find him."

"Of course, my lord," one of the young Elves said. "How –?"

"I want you to listen to me very carefully. We are sending parties of warriors to search the woods for him. Since you know the quickest routes, you will be going with them, two of you to each group. You will guide the warriors until you locate Bregolien, at which point you will get out of the way and not try to join the fighting."

"But, my lord –"

"No argument," Arbellason said in the voice that could obtain immediate and absolute obedience from any of Greenwood's warriors. "You will do as you are told and stay out of trouble, or you will spend the next hundred years on guard duty outside the stables."

"My lord," Rochendilwen said suddenly, "may I go with them?"

Thranduil looked at her in astonishment, Arbellason with a slight frown.

"No, _penneth_," the Elven-king said. "I think it would be best if you stayed here. You have had many serious shocks over the past few days and I do not want you to return to your duties until you have had time to recover."

"My king, I can help."

"I do not doubt that. All the same, you are not going. I want you to go back home and get some rest."

Rochendilwen bowed her head in acquiescence, but the displeasure in her voice was palpable as she said softly, "Yes, my king."

* * *

"There," Elrohir said. "That is their encampment."

Legolas peered in the direction of Elrohir's pointing finger. He saw a few tents, the same dusty grey as the stone of the mountains, pitched in a circle at the edge of the woods. Smoke rose from a fire in the centre, and several horses were tethered to nearby trees.

"Are you sure they welcome visitors?" he asked doubtfully.

"At any rate they will welcome us, since we are going to buy their ale."

"Try not to make a face when you drink it," Elladan said, coming up on Legolas' other side. "I do not _think_ they are warlike, but why take the risk of offending them?"

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Meleth nîn_ – My love

_Penneth_ – Young one

* * *

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	7. Riders on the Road

**Disclaimer: **Can I have just one Elf?

Thanks to awaylaughingonafastcamel, Silivren Tinu, Templa Otmena and mikinyet for reviewing. *hugs*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Riders on the Road**

It was well past dawn when Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas led their horses out of the Mannish encampment. Legolas wore an expression of deep disgruntlement that amused his friends to no small degree.

"They actually _drink_ that?" he whispered, glancing around to make sure none of the men could hear him. "_Voluntarily?_"

"Not only do they drink it, Elfling, they enjoy it. And I think you will as well, if you will only give yourself time and a chance to get used to it. I admit it has a fairly strong flavour, but –"

"_Strong flavour?_" Legolas said incredulously. "I barely managed not to spit it out! If I had not been afraid of what that man with the hatchet would do if I insulted his brewing ability I would not have been able to swallow a single mouthful. I do not know how the two of you managed to drink so much. Why are you going that way, Ro? Imladris is to the east."

"I know Imladris is to the east, Elfling. We are not returning to Imladris."

"Where are we going?"

"South."

"South? Why are we going south?"

"It will be a nice change from the woods around Imladris. And we may meet somebody interesting riding up from the Redhorn Pass. After all, there have been no messengers from your father for some weeks."

"What about what will happen when we go back to Imladris and are confined to the grounds for the rest of the summer for making everyone worry?"

"We will deal with that when it happens," Elladan said airily. "You cannot tell us _you _are afraid of getting in trouble, _tithen _Legolas, because no Elf with any sense will believe you. Certainly _we _will not believe you; you seem to have forgotten how many times we have helped you evade retribution for your numerous crimes."

* * *

"Has anybody heard from them?"

Lindariel glanced up at Elrond, a smile flitting across her face.

"I went into the forest before breakfast. The trees say the children are riding south. I suppose they were getting restless here and wanted something interesting to do."

"I am sure they will be fine…" Elrond said, although his tone suggested that he was sure of no such thing. At Lindariel's questioning look, he went on, "I know they have done this before. They are all capable of taking care of themselves and by all accounts the forest is safe enough now. All the same… Celebrían has been worried, and that makes _me_ worry."

Lindariel frowned.

"I can send word. If Celebrían thinks we should call them back… They will not be happy, of course, but far better for them to be safe here than in danger in the woods."

Elrond hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"I think not. I do not know what exactly is worrying Celebrían, and neither does she. It could be something else entirely that she senses. If we force them to come back before they are ready they will only get more restless before summer is over."

The Elven-queen laughed.

"I do not even _want_ to think about the consequences of three restless young Elves in this house. Perhaps it _will_ be best to let them expend some energy before they return."

* * *

"Have you heard anything?"

Arbellason shook his head, not turning away from the window through which he was scanning the pines with growing anxiety.

"Nothing. Nobody has been able to find him, despite all the aid they have been getting from the trees. He is moving too quickly, taking paths that even the youngsters do not know. And now they have had no word of him for hours… I think he must be out of the forest by now."

"Do we have any idea where he plans to go?"

"I would say either Caradhras or the High Pass… More likely Caradhras."

"Imladris?" Thranduil asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

Arbellason finally moved away from the window. He went to the Elven-king and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"He has no reason to go to Lindon. I do not for a minute suppose he has business or friends in Eriador; Bregolien has never troubled to hide his contempt for Men. We must assume that he is going to Imladris." He squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Do not worry, Thranduil. If there is any place that is safe, it is Imladris. Elrond will take care of them."

"I do not doubt that he will try," Thranduil said softly. "I only hope our riders reach Imladris before Bregolien does."

"Thorontur will be here soon," Arbellason said, trying to keep his voice confident. "He is riding as fast as he can. We will deal with this. We have vanquished more dangerous foes than Bregolien; he is just one Elf. Lindariel and Legolas will be fine."

"If anything happens to them…"

"They will be fine." Arbellason pulled Thranduil to his feet. "Have courage, _mellon nîn_. In a few weeks we will have taken Bregolien and Lindariel and Legolas will be here. Well, at least Lindariel will be here… I will not answer for your son's whereabouts; he is too much like you. For all I know he will be exploring some unknown corner of Greenwood with his friends while we sit here wondering if he will return in one piece."

The joke made Thranduil smile at last.

"_Le hannon._"

"Do not thank me," Arbellason said lightly. "It is part of my duties to ensure that you remain the wise and sensible ruler we need instead of becoming the doting idiot you are in the presence of your wife or son."

Laughing at the king's furious expression, he left the room.

* * *

"I think we should set up camp here."

Elladan and Legolas drew rein, staring at Elrohir in surprise.

"We have hours of daylight left," Legolas protested.

"Yes, but we can go on tomorrow. And I think we should stop for today."

"Is something wrong, Ro?"

"No…" Elrohir hesitated. "Nothing is wrong. I only think…" He glanced around. "I think I can beat you to that beech tree, Elfling."

He urged his horse to a gallop. Legolas, protesting, did the same, leaving Elladan to follow at a more sedate pace. By the time he reached the beech tree Elrohir had indicated, his brother and his friend had dismounted and were bickering about who had won. They both turned on him as soon as he reached them.

"You adjudicate, Dan," Elrohir said. "You know I won."

"He knows nothing of the kind. He knows _I _won because _you_ cheated."

"I did not cheat! I cannot help it if you are slow to react –"

"You started before you even finished speaking! And I was only half a nose behind you at the end."

"You were more than half a nose behind me! I would put it at a couple of lengths –"

"I did not know your ability to judge distances was so flawed. This must be why you shoot like a Dwarf."

"I can out-shoot you easily, Elfling."

"Ro!" Elladan protested, chuckling. "If you let this turn into an archery contest then not even my most biased adjudication will be able to save you from ignominious defeat."

"You would be biased in _his_ favour?" Legolas demanded, contriving to look deeply hurt.

"Yes, Elfling, because you do not need anybody to be biased in your favour in an archery contest," Elladan said soothingly, prompting laughter from Legolas and a few well-chosen expletives from Elrohir. "Now go and gather some firewood. The trees are less likely to suspect us of being woodcutters if you are the one doing it."

Elladan waited only until Legolas was out of earshot before turning to his brother.

"All right, what is it?"

"I do not know," Elrohir murmured. "It just seemed… prudent… not to be caught on the open road as night drew near. I did not want to worry Legolas."

"He is not a child anymore, Ro, and he will not thank you for treating him like one."

"I know he is not a child," Elrohir said irritably. "But at the moment, he is happy. He will have enough to worry about when he returns home."

* * *

Thranduil was in the Queen's Garden. For the second night in a row, sleep had deserted him. All Arbellason's reassurances could not convince him that his wife and son were safe and that Bregolien's murderous fury would leave them untouched.

He sat beneath an ancient oak that had been one of Legolas' favourite hiding-places as an Elfling. He himself had spent countless nerve-wracking hours standing under it as his son swung gleefully from branches that would never have supported a grown Elf's weight, disregarding all Thranduil's pleas to be careful and use both hands to climb. Lindariel had laughed at him, telling him that no child of hers was likely to fall out of trees, but that had not prevented him from darting around and around the trunk in an attempt to keep Legolas in sight.

A soft step jerked him out of his reverie. He looked up to see a page standing a few feet away, eyeing him anxiously.

Thranduil could not blame the Elf for being anxious. Practically everyone in the kingdom, and certainly everyone who lived or worked in close proximity with him, had learnt not to cross him when he was worried about his family.

"My king, Lord Thorontur has just arrived."

"What!" Thranduil got to his feet. "Already?"

"I believe he has been riding day and night without rest ever since your message reached him. He is waiting in your study."

"_Le hannon_," the Elven-king murmured, setting off for his study at a run.

He found Thorontur and Arbellason sitting on either side of the cold hearth, sharing a bottle of wine. Thorontur had clearly come straight from the stables to Thranduil's study. His clothes were travel-stained and his hair windswept.

"You look terrible," Thranduil gasped.

"No worse than you do," Thorontur replied affably. "And you do not even have an excuse. At least _I_ have spent the past few days on horseback."

Thranduil sank into a chair and took the cup Arbellason handed him.

"We will find him," Thorontur said. "We will find him _before_ he does any further damage. Do not fear, _mellon nîn_. And stop refusing meals – yes, I _have_ been told about that." He shot Thranduil a severe look so reminiscent of Oropher that the Elven-king could not help chuckling. "You will help nobody if you weaken yourself. You must be strong. We will have Lindariel and Legolas here soon, and they will not be pleased if they find you half-dead from starvation and exhaustion."

* * *

Legolas was the first to wake. He stared up at the sky through the branches for a moment, wondering where he was. Then memory returned, and he laughed softly.

He got to his feet, sparing a glance for Elladan and Elrohir, who were still asleep, glazed eyes reflecting the light of early dawn. Legolas decided to let them sleep a while longer. With that thought, he leapt easily up into the branches of the beech tree. He climbed as high as he could, regretting the fact that he was now too heavy to get up to the topmost branches.

The tree welcomed him happily, pouring out complaints about the lack of Elven company in that part of the forest and occasionally lowering a branch to aid his progress.

_I am pleased to see you too, my friend,_ Legolas told the tree, unable to keep amusement from his tone. _But surely you must get _some_ company. You are not too far from the path most Elves take from Imladris to the Redhorn Pass._

_It has been many years since anybody stopped to talk to me,_ the tree grumbled. _Young Elves are always in a hurry now. There was a group of Wood-elves last season, and even _they_ barely stopped for a few minutes. They were on their way to Imladris. Elves going to Imladris are always in a hurry. I do not understand why. There can be nothing there that is better than a forest._

Legolas chuckled.

_Not all Elves see things as you do._

_No_, the tree agreed, sounding so sulky that Legolas nearly laughed out loud. _I expect this new one will be in as much of a hurry as all the rest._

_New one?_ Legolas finally decided that he had climbed far enough and made himself comfortable with his back to the tree trunk. _There is an Elf coming?_

_There is word of an Elf riding north from the mountain pass – what you call the Redhorn Pass. In haste, like all Elven messengers. The trees there think he has not stopped at all, except when he _had_ to rest his horse or have it collapse under him. And even then he went scouting ahead for the quickest route while the horse rested._

_Who is he? _Legolas asked, intrigued.

_How are we to know who he is? He is no friend of the forest. When he came down from the mountains he did not even stop to greet the first tree he met. Even most of the Noldor do that. He refuses to stay and speak to us when we call to him._

Legolas frowned.

_It is unusual for an Elf to be in such a hurry. I hope he does not bear ill tidings._ A sudden fear gripped him, and he demanded, _Is he from Greenwood? Has something happened there?_

_I do not know, Elfling,_ the tree responded. _I will ask if any of the trees has knowledge of his purpose._

_I am not an Elfling!_

* * *

Elladan woke to find the sun already well above the eastern horizon. He sat up and looked around. Elrohir was just opening his eyes. There was no sign of Legolas, although his horse was cropping the grass nearby. Elladan nearly laughed, but then he remembered Elrohir's fears of the previous night. He turned to his brother, who, from his expression, had been struck by the same thought.

"Where do you think he is?" Elladan asked softly.

"Do we really want to know?" Elrohir groaned. "We should have known he would disappear in the middle of the night. We will probably find him languishing somewhere with a broken leg and an arrow through his ribs. _Ada_ will have our ears!"

"He may be fine," Elladan said. "Perhaps he has just gone to get water."

"You _know_ the Elfling. Do you think it is remotely likely that he is doing something so innocuous?"

"That is true," Elladan agreed with a frown. "I have healing supplies. He may not be too badly injured. Where should we start looking?"

"You go north," Elrohir said, getting to his feet and pulling his pack towards him. "I will go south. We have heard no reports of Men in the area, so maybe he has only fallen and hurt himself."

"Maybe he is not far at all," Elladan said hopefully.

"Maybe he is standing in front of you wondering why the two of you are emptying your packs instead of getting ready to leave."

Elladan looked up in shock. Legolas was before them, clearly unharmed, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Before he could react, Elrohir got to his feet with a sharp exclamation.

"Where _were_ you? Do you not know better than to wander off without telling us?"

"I was only in the tree. Is something wrong?"

"I – nothing. What did the tree say?"

"There is a rider coming north, probably from Eryn Galen. The trees are uncertain."

"Then let us go and meet him," Elladan said. "At least on the way back to Imladris I will have better company than the two of _you_."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Tithen –_ Little

_Mellon nîn_ – My friend

_Le hannon. _– Thank you.

* * *

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	8. The Messenger

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine.

Thanks to mikinyet, Silivren Tinu, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Lauren Hedgehog and Muse10 for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Messenger**

It was well past noon by the time Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas spotted the lone Elven rider approaching. In his green and brown tunic, he was barely visible against the trees. There was an unmistakable urgency to his posture and his horse's gait.

"I believe that _is_ one of your father's warriors, Elfling," Elladan said, drawing rein and squinting.

"I believe it is Bregolien," Legolas replied, barely managing to suppress a groan. "I cannot imagine _anything _that would have been worse than _him_ arriving _now_. I hope he has not come here to lecture me further about the incident with the stream! I say we turn around and go back to Imladris. He may not see us!"

"Too late, _tithen pen_," Elrohir murmured, chuckling. "He _has_ seen us. You cannot flee now."

"Of course I can," Legolas retorted, nudging his horse gently with his heels. "Watch me do it. I just have to turn around – _turn_, my friend – and ride, and I will be gone long before he is anywhere here. I can always pretend _I_ did not see _him_."

Before Legolas' horse could obey his injunctions, Elrohir reached out and caught the bridle.

"I am sorry, Legolas," the older Elf said, genuine regret in his voice. "I know you do not particularly like him, but there is no choice. If you are old enough to be a warrior, you are old enough not to run away from a meeting you will not enjoy."

Legolas sighed.

"He will lecture me about _something_, you may be certain. If he has forgotten about the stream there will be something else. There is always something."

"Do not worry, _tithen pen_," Elladan said, sounding amused. "We are here. We will not let him eat you."

* * *

It was some time before Bregolien reached the three waiting Elves. In the intervening minutes, they were able to study his manner closely. He was clearly anxious. Judging by the frequent glances he kept casting behind him, he feared pursuit. He was fully armed, bow and quiver on his back, sword dangling from his belt.

As soon as he was within earshot, Elladan called, "_Mae govannen, mellon nîn!_ What brings you here? I hope there are no ill tidings from Greenwood?"

The other Elf nodded, but he said nothing until he was near enough to make himself heard without shouting.

"_Mae govannen, Elrondion._ Elrohir, Legolas. I bring urgent news – ill news, I fear."

"What is it?" Legolas asked nervously, unable to stop himself. "What is wrong? Is _Ada _well?"

"Not now, Legolas," Bregolien replied firmly. "I will have to tell the queen in any case, and I have no desire to repeat myself. You can wait until we reach Imladris – I presume the three of you _are_ returning to Imladris?"

"Yes," Elrohir said slowly. Then, with a glance at Legolas, who was gripping his horse's reins so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, he added, "But I would ask you to tell us the message you carry for Queen Lindariel, unless you have explicit instructions that no other is to hear it. However swiftly we ride, we will not reach Imladris until tomorrow evening at the very earliest – and I doubt any of us will be able to find easy sleep tonight, knowing that you bear disturbing news."

"You mean you doubt _Legolas_ will be able to find sleep this night," Bregolien retorted, unimpressed. "If he is going to be a warrior, he must learn patience. You will know soon enough, Legolas."

"At least tell me if my father is well," the younger Elf implored.

"You must learn patience," Bregolien snapped, "or you will never be fit to be the lowest of the archers, leave alone taking up your duties as prince. I will tell you what I choose to tell you. The longer you wait here arguing, the longer it will be before you hear my message."

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a glance and came to a silent agreement.

"Come, then," Elladan said curtly, turning his horse and urging it to a trot. "It would appear we have no time to waste."

Bregolien followed, but Elrohir hung back to squeeze Legolas' shoulder.

"Do not worry, Elfling," he whispered. "I am sure your father is fine. You know Bregolien. His 'ill tidings' may simply be that this year's trade negotiations did not go as well as expected. He is probably just trying to upset your slumber. Ignore him."

* * *

"Aeroniel! Saeldur!"

The young Elves, leading their horses into the courtyard, turned at the sound of their names.

"Rochendilwen! What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No – that is – I do not know. Did you find Bregolien?"

"We have had plenty of signs of him, but we have not been able to catch up with him," Saeldur said, watching the _elleth_ closely. "We had to give up eventually. If he took the pass of Caradhras he will be across the Hithaeglir now. Eredhion and Voronwë are riding up to the High Pass with some of the warriors, just in case he is taking that route. I have my doubts. He would not have delayed crossing the mountains if he could help it."

"He _has_ crossed the mountains," Rochendilwen said softly. "I only hope the king's messengers reach Imladris before he does."

"There is little chance of that," Aeroniel said grimly. "Even riding as swiftly as they can, they are far behind him. Our best hope is that he will be unable to deceive the queen. Yet I fear that hope will prove vain." Rochendilwen flushed scarlet, and Aeroniel frowned. "What is wrong? You cannot believe that anybody blames you?"

"Do they not? I spoke for him."

"You trusted your brother," Aeroniel said, laying a hand on her friend's arm. "That is no crime. You did not participate in his deeds, nor did you aid him." Rochendilwen jerked. "What is it?"

"I must speak with you," the other _elleth_ replied, glancing from Aeroniel to Saeldur. "Both of you."

Without another word, she turned and began to walk in the direction of the stables. Aeroniel and Saeldur looked at each other in mystification. Unable to come to any satisfactory conclusions about the cause of their friend's unusual behaviour, they followed her silently.

Rochendilwen waited with palpable impatience while they gave their horses to one of the grooms. As soon as the Elf had led the horses away, she gestured in the direction of the palace.

She led them to an empty antechamber in a little-used part of the building, bolted the door, and finally turned to face her increasingly-bewildered friends.

"What _is_ wrong?" Aeroniel asked. "If you wanted to speak in private we could have gone into the forest."

"There are trees in the forest."

"Trees may listen, but you know they never give us away," Saeldur said carefully. "Besides, this room is hardly safe from eavesdroppers. We could try Legolas' study. He would not mind, and that corridor is guarded at this time. We can at least be certain that strangers will not be allowed near it."

"The guards," Rochendilwen murmured. "There will be the guards."

"The guards know better than to press their ears to keyholes," Aeroniel pointed out. "Especially those on duty in the palace. Can you imagine how the king would react if he found one of them spying?"

"You do not understand," Rochendilwen almost wailed. "It _is_ my fault. This is all my fault."

Saeldur rolled his eyes.

"This is ridiculous. You are his sister, Rochendilwen – only his sister. You are not responsible for his actions. You have no reason to blame yourself."

"But I _do_ have a reason to blame myself," the _elleth_ said softly. "I gave him the knife."

* * *

Legolas sat gazing into the distance, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. His three companions were asleep, and he could have slept as well – there were enough trees around them that there was no need to keep watch – but he was too restless.

He would, he reflected morosely, even have preferred being lectured for his many misdeeds.

He was so lost in thought that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Why are you awake, Elfling?"

Legolas shook his head, shifting so that Elladan and Elrohir could sit on either side of him. Then he edged back a little, attempting to avoid meeting their eyes.

"I could not sleep," he mumbled.

"Legolas..." Elladan stole a quick glance at Bregolien to make sure he was still sleeping before turning to his friend. "Legolas, you cannot let him upset you so much. He is far too calm for something truly terrible to have happened –"

"Bregolien would be this calm even if all of Greenwood had been ravaged by orcs."

"That I cannot deny," Elladan admitted, drawing an unwilling chuckle from the younger Elf. "All the same..."

"All the same," Elrohir said, "he is only trying to worry you more than necessary. Legolas, whatever is wrong, you can do nothing about it now. I know it is difficult, but you _must_ try to rest. You will be of no help to anybody if you are near collapse from exhaustion."

"And we are with you," Elladan added.

"The three finest young warriors of Middle-earth," Elrohir supplied, causing Elladan to snort and Legolas to say, "Do not say that where Glorfindel can hear you. He will not let us forget it!"

* * *

"... And so I gave it to him," Rochendilwen said, finishing her story. "I had no idea – if I had known what he planned to do with it –"

"Yes, of course," Aeroniel said hastily, patting her shoulder. "Nobody is suggesting that you had a part in his actions."

"Not yet," Saeldur muttered. When Aeroniel glared at him, he added, "_I_ am not saying it, but there will be plenty who will, if they learn of this. There will be plenty who will say far worse things." Rochendilwen flinched, and he went on more gently, "You will have to tell the king and the Council. They might be persuaded not to speak of this to anybody else, but they must know."

"How will it help?" Rochendilwen asked softly. "The damage is done. He is gone."

"Thorontur and Arbellason will want to know everything he told you. It might give them some idea of what his plans are. Besides... If they find out in some other way, they will be less likely to believe your intentions were good than if you tell them yourself. You must speak to them."

"Now?"

Aeroniel and Saeldur exchanged a glance.

"Perhaps it can wait until the morning," Aeroniel said at last. "I do not expect any of them will be sleeping, but they must be busy."

* * *

Despite the twins' efforts to calm him down, Legolas had not slept at all. Long before sunrise he was ready to leave. The others rose soon afterwards, and after a quick breakfast they mounted their horses and set off for Imladris at a brisk trot.

They rode as they had the previous day, Elladan and Bregolien leading, the Noldo making several unsuccessful attempts to engage his taciturn companion in conversation, and Elrohir and Legolas following several yards behind. Elrohir spent most of the morning trying to take Legolas' mind off the reason for Bregolien's arrival. Finally, as the day wore on to noon, he proposed a race.

"Bregolien will never agree to a race," Legolas grumbled.

"Who is asking him to race? We will leave him and Dan here to be responsible and disapproving. You and I can race to that little beech grove that we passed earlier. When we get there we can let the horses rest until _they_ catch up." He indicated their companions. "In the meantime we can have an archery contest."

Legolas responded with an unexpected grin.

"You _are_ trying hard to make me stop thinking about it."

"Of course I am. And if you persist in thinking about you will be making all my effort go to waste. Think of how disappointed I will be if that happens. Now will you race me or not?"

"All right," Legolas responded, laughing and patting his horse's neck. "_Noro lim!_"

The two young Elves shot past their companions and galloped away down the path, unaware of both Elladan's amused look and Bregolien's dark glare.

* * *

"You did _what_?"

Rochendilwen felt herself colour, and took an unconscious step back from Thorontur's appalled gaze. Thranduil, Arbellason and Mídhaer were staring at her with varying degrees of shock. Had it not been for Aeroniel and Saeldur standing on either side of her in a show of solidarity, she would have fled the room.

"I – I had no idea, my lord," she stammered. "He told me he would only use it to take his own life."

"And you _believed _him?"

Rochendilwen opened her mouth uncertainly, but support came for her from an unexpected quarter when Thranduil said suddenly, "It is not entirely her fault. Any of us might have been deceived in the same position. We should have warned the guards not to leave them alone."

Thorontur sighed and nodded.

"Of course. I am sorry, _penneth_. As he says, any of us might have been deceived." He turned to Thranduil and Arbellason. "I think we can agree that there is no need to discuss this with the Council?"

Thranduil nodded agreement, and Arbellason said, "I think it is best you do not resume your duties for some time, _penneth_." At Rochendilwen's horrified expression, he added, "That is not a punishment. You have suffered much these past days. I do not want you returning to your duties until you have recovered fully."

Rochendilwen bowed her head in acquiescence. The young Elves slipped out of the room. Mídhaer only waited to ask if there had been any further news before she followed them.

When the door had closed behind her, Thorontur turned to the Elven-king.

"You took that remarkably well."

"It is as well she told us today," Thranduil said grimly, dropping into a chair.

"Yes," Arbellason agreed. "I do not know that I would have believed her side of the story if she had delayed until something happened to force her to confess."

"It is more than that," Thranduil responded, taking the cup of wine Thorontur handed him. "Much as I want to, I cannot persuade myself that my wife and son will come out of this unscathed. Bregolien knows me too well. But I can still _hope_, even if the hope is foolish. At the moment, I am scared – I am _terrified_ – but I can still be fair." He took a sip of wine and shivered. "If – if we receive word that Bregolien has reached Imladris and harmed Lindariel or Legolas, I do not know that I will be able to be fair or just, no matter what I know or believe."

* * *

"At last," Legolas murmured as he rode through the gates of the Last Homely House, the others right behind him. It was dark, but since they had been very near Imladris when night fell they had decided to go on instead of delaying any longer.

"Do you want to eat or rest before you meet the queen?" Elladan asked Bregolien.

The other Elf, who had shown no sign of undue haste during the day, shook his head.

"No. My news cannot wait. I must meet her now."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Tithen pen_ – Little one

_Mae govannen, mellon nîn._ – Well met, my friend.

_Elleth_ – Female Elf

_Penneth_ – Young one

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	9. The Council of Elrond

**Disclaimer: **All I own is the computer.

Thanks to Silivren Tinu, awaylaughingonafastcamel, MDarKspIrIt, mikinyet, Lauren Hedgehog, Cushion, Muse10, XoLikeWoahxO, and momiji'sunusedhalo for reviewing the last chapter.

This is a slightly slow-moving chapter, but bear with me… The pace will pick up from the next one.

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Council of Elrond**

"I must meet her now," Bregolien repeated, his eyes on Elladan. "It is imperative that I deliver my message without the slightest delay."

Elladan, after a moment's hesitation, pulled Elrohir aside.

"I do not like this," he whispered. "I do not trust him. He would have been content to stop hours ago; he probably _would_ have done if Legolas had not insisted that we go on. Why is he in such haste now?"

"What can we do? We cannot prevent him from meeting Lindariel," Elrohir whispered back.

"You take him to _Ada's _study – make sure Legolas stays with you – and I will go and bring the queen. But first I will wake _Ada_ and _Nana_ and tell them he is here with 'ill news'."

"Hurry," Elrohir murmured. Elladan dismounted, handed his reins to his brother, and sped off in the direction of the house. Elrohir led the other two Elves to the stables. As slowly as he dared, and warning Legolas with a glance not to question him, he put the horses in their stalls and called the groom on duty to see to them.

* * *

Elrond, woken by an urgent knocking on his door, hurried to open it. To his shock –nobody had really expected the young Elves to return so soon – his older son stood outside, breathing hard.

"Elladan! What is it?" He drew his son into the sitting-room. "Is someone hurt?" Without a word, he went to his chest-of-drawers and began riffling through his things to locate his emergency healing supplies. "Which of them is it? And is it bad enough that Thranduil will be here baying for my blood?"

Celebrían, who also had been roused by the knocking, quickly joined her husband in collecting pouches and bottles.

"Nobody is hurt, _Ada_," Elladan got out, catching his breath. "We met Bregolien on the road. He said he had an urgent message for the queen, ill tidings from Eryn Galen, and so we returned with him. But, _Ada_…" Elladan caught his father's wrist. "_Ada_, something is wrong. I know his manner is always brusque, but he is different this time. I fear something is amiss. He has asked to speak to the queen at once, and I know he means that he should speak to her alone, but –"

"Say no more, _penneth_," Celebrían commanded. "He will do no such thing while I am mistress of Imladris. Where is he?"

"I told Ro to take him to _Ada's_ study."

"Good," Elrond said. "We are coming."

"Shall I send someone to wake the queen?"

"No," Celebrían replied. "I shall do that myself. You can go and wake Glorfindel. Tell him to hurry."

* * *

"Be easy, _penneth_," Elrohir whispered to Legolas. "We are here for you."

"No matter what," Elladan added from the Elf-prince's other side.

Legolas only nodded. He, Elladan and Elrohir were standing, at Elrond's direction, with their backs to the door. His mother, Elrond, Celebrían, Erestor and Glorfindel were standing at the other end of the room, all five wearing expressions of varying degrees of grimness. Bregolien was in the middle of the room, facing the older Elves. Legolas wished he could see the young warrior's face.

"Speak," Celebrían said. "What business have you here?"

"I have a message for Queen Lindariel, my lady," Bregolien replied, his tone as respectful as it ever was – which, Legolas reflected, was not very much.

The words were followed by several seconds of silence, broken at last by the queen.

"What is your message?"

"Forgive me, my queen," Bregolien said curtly. "My orders were to give it to you in private – and to Legolas, if he chose to hear."

Lindariel did not need the swift glance Celebrían shot at her to tell her how to respond.

"I have full faith in Lord Elrond and all the members of his household," she told the younger Elf. "You may speak as freely before them as you would before Thranduil. What is your message?"

"My queen, I fear I cannot –"

"I believe your queen just gave you an order," Glorfindel cut in tersely. He had never been fond of Bregolien, and he was now eyeing the dark-haired Elf with something very close to distaste. "You will do as she tells you; whether you do so willingly or unwillingly is your choice."

Bregolien opened his mouth for an angry response, which died on his lips when he met Glorfindel's eyes.

"As you command, my lord… my queen," he mumbled. For a moment he turned to look at Legolas over his shoulder. There was something in his gaze that would have made Legolas shrink back, had it not been for the reassuring presence of his friends on either side of him. Bregolien turned back to Lindariel. "My queen, the king is dying."

* * *

Thranduil had long stopped keeping track of when he had last slept. He was pacing restlessly up and down his bedroom, pausing occasionally to glance out the window at the garden.

He barely noticed the door opening, and did not react when Thorontur entered.

"Galion tells me you are sending your food back uneaten."

"I am not hungry."

"Do not be absurd, Thranduil!" Thorontur said furiously. "Arbellason and I have enough to worry about with recapturing Bregolien. We will be able to devote more attention to that if we do not have to spend time coaxing you to eat and sleep as though you were an Elfling!"

"I do not need to be coaxed to eat –"

"Judging by what Galion told me, you do need to be coaxed to eat. Do you think you can help anybody by starving yourself?"

"How can I eat?" Thranduil burst out angrily. "We know what he is capable of, and he is out there somewhere." He waved an arm in the direction of the window. "Out there, probably plotting to murder my wife and son. We have no idea where he is or what he plans, and you expect me to _eat_?"

"Yes," his friend responded. "I _do_ expect you to eat. And sleep. We cannot concentrate on finding Bregolien if we are worried about you, _mellon nîn_. You must take care of yourself."

Reluctantly, Thranduil nodded.

"Good," Thorontur said. "I will have Galion send another tray up, and if he complains to me that it is returned untouched..."

* * *

Before Legolas had even absorbed the import of Bregolien's words, Elladan and Elrohir each took one of his hands in a strong grip. The colour drained from Lindariel's cheeks, but she showed no other reaction.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"The healers suspect poison, although they have not been able to determine _which _poison. They say that there is no longer any hope of saving him even if they _could_ identify it. By their estimates, he will last perhaps another ten or eleven days. He wants to see you, my queen – and Legolas – before the end."

Legolas took a step back, towards the door. At once, the twins' grip on his hands tightened.

"Wait," Elrohir whispered, tugging the younger Elf back. "I cannot believe this. Had your father been poisoned and the healers unable to cure him, they would surely have sent him here to see if _Ada_ could do anything."

Elrond seemed to be thinking the same thing; a frown creased his brow as he said, "Are they certain there is no hope? You say they are not even sure that it is poison. Mayhap I can ride to Eryn Galen – ten days is more than enough time – and examine him myself."

"No, my lord," Bregolien said. "The king would not permit it."

"What do you mean?"

Bregolien seemed to hesitate. He glanced from Elrond to Lindariel and back, biting his lip, before he answered the Elf-lord's question.

"He is greatly weakened, my lord," he said at last. "He... he does not want anybody to see him in his present condition."

"I am a healer," Elrond snapped. "And he will not have forgotten that I tended to his injuries on the Dagorlad. It will not be the first time I have seen him in a weakened condition. Besides, that is hardly an important consideration when I might be able to save him!"

"You cannot save him, my lord."

"How can you be so certain?" Glorfindel demanded. "You, at any rate, are _not_ a healer."

"I am certain because I have seen him, Lord Glorfindel. I had hoped not to speak of this here, but since you compel me… It is no poison that ails him."

Legolas pulled free of Elladan and Elrohir and stepped forward.

"But you just said –"

"Yes, I _did_ just say the healers suspected poison," Bregolien snapped, whirling on the younger Elf. "I did not say _I_ suspected poison. And _you_ have no cause to be asking me questions, Legolas. You know perfectly well what ails your father."

There was silence for several seconds. Then Glorfindel said coldly, "Do not be absurd, Bregolien. How could Legolas know anything when he has been _here_ all summer? Indeed, I begin to suspect that nothing at all is wrong with Thranduil and that this is an ill-timed and ridiculous joke."

"I speak the truth, my lord," Bregolien replied, his eyes not leaving Legolas' face. "No more and no less. The king is dying, and though the healers pretend that he has been poisoned, they know and we know that that is not the cause. So does Legolas, although he may deny it. I was sent here to take the queen and Legolas, and no others, back to Greenwood, that they may see him before the end. If you want further details, ask our beloved prince."

"What?" Legolas stammered. "I – I have no idea what you mean. I – _Nana_…"

"Yes, I know, _penneth_," Lindariel said, clearly fighting to keep her voice even. "Bregolien, I assure you that neither of us knows what you are talking about or what you imagine is wrong with Thranduil. If you have something to say, say it plainly."

"My queen, this is hardly the time," Bregolien growled. "The king is dying. We cannot stand here talking if you hope to reach him in time to say your farewells. We must leave at once, this very night. And _you_," he went on, advancing on Legolas with an air of menace, "had best begin behaving like an adult. This has gone on long enough. Bad enough that you should be the one to cause your father's death –"

"_What!_" Legolas yelped. "I – but – what did I –?"

"We can discuss it later, Legolas. I cannot believe that you would pretend ignorance after all you have done."

Legolas flinched. Before he could speak, the twins came forward, Elrohir to wrap an arm around his shoulders and Elladan to step between him and Bregolien.

"That is _enough_," the older twin hissed. "I do not know how you can even _think_ these things, much less say them. I am starting to think that Lord Glorfindel is right, that this is your perverse idea of a joke. Your mind has obviously been warped. I cannot imagine how Lord Arbellason ever let one such as you serve as a warrior in his army. I would sooner trust Morgoth than –"

"Elladan," Elrond said reprovingly, although he could not hide the slight amusement in his voice, "that will do." Elladan fell silent, but his eyes still blazed with anger. "The three of you can go. Do not leave the house; we will send for you when we have decided what to do."

* * *

"We _must_ go," Lindariel said, as soon as the door had closed behind the three young Elves.

"A moment, Lindariel," Glorfindel put in. "Before you make up your mind, I would have a word with our visitor." Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Bregolien. "I will be honest. I do not like you. I have never liked you. I have, however, always tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. But your story is so absurd that no matter how hard I try, I cannot credit it."

Bregolien flushed.

"Credit it or not as you will, my lord. Yet I wager the queen will regret it greatly if she does not leave with me now."

Lord Elrond sighed.

"I suppose you _must_ go, Lindariel. I will arrange for an escort –"

"We need no escort, my lord," Bregolien interrupted. "Guards will only slow us down. The road is safe enough."

"You must have an escort," Celebrían said firmly. "You have been riding for days, and so has Legolas. You will both be too tired to put up much resistance if you should meet any danger on the way to Eryn Galen."

"My lady, please, every moment matters now. I cannot answer for Legolas, but I am capable of defending the queen from anything that might attack us on the road. We will ride lighter and swifter without an escort. My queen, the king has only days left to him – we must make haste if we are to reach him in time."

Glorfindel opened his mouth to protest, but Elrond said, "So be it. Go and rest now, _penneth_. You can leave at dawn. Lindariel, you had best get some rest as well. You will be riding hard for the next few days."

Ignoring the surprised looks from the two _ellith_, he ushered everyone out of the room. At the door, he paused and pulled Glorfindel aside. The Elf-lord looked at him curiously.

"Have them followed," Elrond murmured. "Discreetly, so that Bregolien does not know. There is no point arguing with him, but I do not intend to let Lindariel and Legolas ride alone with him. I sense malice in him."

Glorfindel nodded, eyes gleaming.

"Four warriors?"

"Eight. I want to take no chances. I would ask you to send more, but too many riders would surely be noticed."

* * *

Lindariel pushed Legolas' door open without knocking. He and the twin sons of Elrond were sprawled on the floor before the cold hearth, talking softly. All three looked up at her entry.

"We are leaving at dawn, Legolas."

She hesitated; the twins, sensing that she wanted to speak to her son alone, quickly slipped out of the room. Legolas got to his feet as she approached, looking at her uncertainly.

"_Nana_ –"

She waved him to silence.

"I do not believe Thranduil is dying, or even injured,_ tithen pen_," she said quietly. "I would surely have sensed it if that were so."

"Then why are we going?"

"Because I dare not take the risk that I might be wrong." She took her son's hands. "Celebrían senses danger on this path, and I have faith in her instincts, but we must go. Whatever happens, though, Legolas, you must not let Bregolien upset you. None of this is your doing."

"But he says I have caused –"

"Legolas, I do not know what you could possibly have done that could have harmed your father weeks after we left Eryn Galen. As I said, I do not believe that anything is wrong with him. Even if what Bregolien says is true, it is not your fault." She squeezed his hands. "I know you find it difficult to believe that Thranduil is well, but that is what I sense and you must trust me. We are returning only as a precaution."

Wordlessly, Legolas nodded.

"Go to sleep, now, _penneth_. We have a journey ahead of us."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Nana­_ – Mum/Mummy

_Penneth_ – Young one

_Mellon nîn_ – My friend

_Ellith_ – Female Elves

_Tithen pen_ – Little one

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	10. A Journey by Moonlight

**Disclaimer: **All is Tolkien's. Not one Elf is mine. *sob*

Thanks to mikinyet, Viresse, XoLikeWoahxO, Silivren Tinu, Cushion, momiji'sunusedhalo, awaylaughingonafastcamel and KyMahalei for reviewing the last chapter.

I thought I would need a warning for this chapter, but, as it turned out, the right point to stop it was just _before_… Well, you'll see. *evil grin*

Onward!

* * *

**Chapter 10: A Journey by Moonlight**

"I do not see why you will not let us go with the patrol following them," Elrohir muttered, eyeing the Elven warriors standing half-concealed in the shadows.

"I do not want to put you at risk unnecessarily," his father responded. "There will come a time for you to ride to battle. This is not it. Bregolien is a skilled warrior and a crafty adversary. It will be best to have experienced warriors to deal with him, should the need arise. Now be silent – they are coming."

At a gesture from Glorfindel, the waiting warriors withdrew even further. A moment later, Bregolien appeared at the door, followed by Legolas and Lindariel.

Elladan and Elrohir drew Legolas aside at once.

"Be careful, Elfling," Elrohir murmured. "And do not believe a word he says. He is trying to upset you for some reason. Ignore him. I am sure your father is fine."

"Come straight back if there is _any_ trouble on the way," Elladan put in.

"And, Legolas… If matters are not well in Eryn Galen, send word to us and we will come at once, no matter what. We will be with you, _gwador nîn_."

"Give Rochendilwen our sympathies for having such a brother."

"She is fond of him," Legolas reminded Elladan. "I do not believe she will want your sympathies."

"They are with her nonetheless," the Noldo said with a grin. "Glorfindel is calling us. I think it is time for you to leave. Legolas, promise me you will be careful and you will not let Bregolien upset you."

"Send us a message, one way or another, as soon as you reach Eryn Galen."

Legolas nodded; then Bregolien strode up to them to demand what was taking so long and there was no time for more than a handclasp from each of the twins and a pat on the shoulder from Celebrían before he mounted. As he passed the gates of Lord Elrond's sanctuary, he turned for one final look at the Last Homely House.

* * *

The sun rose over Greenwood, its light shining upon a group of young Elves standing on one of the archery fields. This early, nobody was training, and they had the field to themselves.

"The king will not let us do this," one of them was protesting. "It was one thing for us to go with the patrols. He will never let us go on our own. I want to do it as much as you do, Aeroniel, but I do not see how we can slip out under the eyes of the guards, especially when they are likely to be doubly alert now!"

"It will be easy, Eredhion," Aeroniel said, in a voice that was clearly meant to be reassuring. "They will not suspect a thing. We go riding or hunting often enough."

"I think you underestimate Arbellason if you imagine he would not have thought of this."

"I think you underestimate _me_ if you imagine I cannot find a way to get us past the guards," Aeroniel said with determination. "How many times have we slipped out at night to go riding or to climb up to the higher slopes of the mountains? This will be far easier than that!"

"_Easier?_"

"Yes! Everyone is distracted."

"I do not see why we cannot just tell the king," Saeldur grumbled. "We can go out with the patrols again if he insists that we should not go alone."

"No. That many Elves would be too noticeable – I am certain that is how Bregolien managed to evade us earlier. You and I will go to the Redhorn Pass, and Eredhion and Voronwë will ride up to the High Pass. Just two Elves; we can stay concealed."

"What good will it do now, in any case?" Voronwë demanded. "He is gone."

"He will return," Aeroniel said stubbornly. "It is the only logical thing for him to do. He cannot hope to harm the queen or Legolas in Imladris and escape with his life. He will probably persuade them to return to Eryn Galen on some pretext or the other."

"Even if he does, he is bound to act before he gains the cover of the forest," Saeldur said. "He knows he will have no aid from the trees."

"At least we will be near enough to do something."

"I am sure the king has thought of this. There must be warriors waiting for him there already."

"Yes, but Bregolien will be _expecting_ the king's warriors. He will not be expecting _us_."

"Because we are not the king's warriors, but archers of mist and shadow who just happened to drop from the sky one day, fully armed."

Aeroniel made a face at the _ellon_.

"Are you coming or are you not?"

"I am coming," Saeldur said with a sigh. "I am only pointing out that the most we achieve may be to earn ourselves even _more_ nighttime patrols. Do not blame _me _when that happens."

* * *

The day passed quickly. When night came even Legolas was glad to dismount. He would never have admitted it to himself, but he was tired, and he needed the rest. As he slipped off his horse and set her loose he was acutely conscious of his mother's eyes on him.

"Are you well?" she asked softly, taking his arm and pulling him aside. Bregolien watched them with a slight frown, but said nothing.

"I am well, _Nana_."

"You are worried." Legolas bit his lip, and she squeezed his hand and lowered her voice even further. "Legolas, _penneth_, I am sure Thranduil is well."

"What if he is not?"

"We will deal with that situation if we find it. And _nothing _that has happened in Eryn Galen in our absence could conceivably be your fault. Now, you must cheer up before we get home. You know how it upsets your father when he thinks you are unhappy about something. Do you want him to go around losing his temper with everybody?"

Legolas smiled unwillingly.

"Do you truly believe all is well?"

"I know it is." She patted his cheek. "Get some sleep, now, _penneth_. You are tired – yes, you are. You have been worrying too much. Go to sleep. You will feel better in the morning. We will soon be across the Hithaeglir, and home."

"_Nana?_"

"Yes?"

"Why are we taking the High Pass?"

Lindariel frowned.

"I have wondered about that myself. Perhaps the Pass of Caradhras is closed for some reason. I asked Bregolien, but he was reticent." She pulled him closer and murmured in his ear, "Have the trees told you of the riders behind us?"

"Yes, but they said they were friendly, so I did not –"

"They are. Elrond has sent them. Say nothing of them." She stepped back. "Sleep now, Legolas. We will have to leave early. The trees will wake us if there is any danger. There is no need to keep watch."

With an admonition to her horse not to stray, Lindariel leapt up into the branches of a tree.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Elrond was woken by someone pounding frantically on his door. He opened it; this time, it was Glorfindel standing outside. The Elf-lord looked far more shaken than Elrond had ever seen him.

"What has happened?" he asked in alarm.

"There are riders from Eryn Galen – they have just arrived. You _must_ hear what they have to say. Is Celebrían awake?"

"I will wake her."

A few minutes later, Elrond, Celebrían and Glorfindel hurried into the antechamber where a pair of exhausted-looking Elves wearing the colours of Greenwood were waiting for them.

"My lord, is the queen here?" one of them asked as soon as he saw Elrond. "And Prince Legolas?"

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel in surprise.

"You did not –"

"You should hear what they have to say first," Glorfindel cut in.

Elrond turned to the messengers.

"You bring word from Thranduil?"

"Yes, my lord. Have you seen or heard aught of Bregolien?"

"Yes, but –"

"Do not trust him, my lord!" the other messenger interrupted frantically. "No matter what he says – he is guilty of Kinslaying –"

"The Council has not yet passed sentence!" the first messenger protested.

"That may be, but you know perfectly well he did it! But the verdict of the court aside, he is certainly guilty of _Elf_-slaying. My lord, what did you hear of him? Are the queen and Legolas safe? Can we speak to them?"

Elrond looked at the messengers; no more, but they read the truth in his eyes.

"Where are they?" one of them asked hoarsely.

"Somewhere between here and the Hithaeglir," the Lord of Imladris replied grimly. "Glorfindel, rouse the warriors. Take as many as you need and go after them. He cannot have done anything yet; we would have heard from the patrol. You may yet be in time, if you make haste."

As the Elf-lord nodded and ran out, cloak streaming behind him as he vaulted over banisters where he could and took stairs four at a time where he could not, Celebrían said, "We should tell the children."

"They will only worry," Elrond protested. "They can do no good."

"They have a right to know, all the same. Legolas is their friend. I hope the child will be safe, Elrond, but if something _does_ happen to him, I do not want news of it to take them unawares. It is best to give them time to prepare themselves."

Elrond hesitated, and then nodded.

"Will you go and speak to them? I will come as soon as I can, but I must hear the details of what happened in Eryn Galen first."

"Of course."

* * *

Barely had Legolas been wandering in dreams for a few minutes when he was shaken awake. His vision focused with such rapidity that he nearly fell from the branch on which he was resting; steadying himself, he said, "Bregolien? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"We must cross the High Pass tonight," the other Elf said curtly. "Wake the queen. Quickly! We have no time!"

"But –"

"Hurry!" Bregolien snapped, leaping to the ground.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Legolas followed.

* * *

Glorfindel would normally not have asked trees for aid, but in his desperation he was willing to go to any lengths. He stopped at the very first one he came to on the road.

"Where are Legolas and Lindariel?"

The tree took a long time answering; it seemed hours to the impatient Elven warrior waiting beneath it with his reins in one hand and his sword in the other. Behind him, he could sense the restiveness of the horses as their riders' anxiety was communicated to them.

At last the tree quivered and replied.

_Do you have any idea what hour it is – _

"Please, I am sorry, but it is urgent," Glorfindel burst out. Had the situation not been so serious he would have been appalled to find himself apologizing to a _tree_. "Their lives may hang in the balance. You must tell me! Where are they?"

_I do not know_, the tree said. _But I can ask my companions who dwell further down the road. If you will wait… This may take some minutes._

"I do not have some minutes! You must hurry! I do not jest when I say lives depend upon your answer. And, while you are at it, find out where the soldiers are."

_Soldiers?_

"The Elves who were following them."

_Ah, of course. Hold yourself in patience, Noldo, and you will find that the knowledge you seek is not as long in coming as you expect. Still impatient, like all the Firstborn._

"I do not have _time_," Glorfindel hissed. "They may die because you stop to lecture me about patience instead of telling me where they are! Please, I promise I will come back to listen to the lecture later if you answer the question _now_! Where are they? Can you take a message to them?"

The tree paused.

_Ride on, Noldo. It will take some time to locate them. One of us will call to you when we do._

"_Le hannon. _If you find them, tell Legolas or Lindariel that Bregolien is dangerous. Tell them Thranduil is well. Word has come from Eryn Galen. Tell the Imladrin Elves the same thing. Tell them that we are on our way."

* * *

"My queen, we must make haste," Bregolien said, leading the way out of the cover of the trees. "It is vital that we cross the pass at once. There are brigands in the area, just past the forest line – too many for me to manage, even with Legolas' help. We must get out of the mountains. Once we are in our lands, we will be safe."

"Do they know we are here?" Lindariel demanded, turning around to look at Legolas, who had been slower than usual to respond to Bregolien's barked orders and was lagging several feet behind them. She hoped it was only exhaustion.

"I believe so. Legolas, _hurry_! We do not have time for you to dawdle."

"But – the trees," Legolas gasped, urging his horse to a fast canter so that he could catch up with them. "They are –"

"The trees are saying nothing," Bregolien growled. "You are imagining things."

"The ones further away," Legolas said. "They seemed… anxious. They were too far for me to speak to them, but they seemed as though they did not want us to leave. I do not know –"

"Legolas, do you not understand the word 'brigands'? Stop arguing and ride!"

Legolas thought he heard the sound of hoofbeats. A surreptitious glance over his shoulder showed him eight riders far behind them, just emerging from the forest. Even in the darkness he could make out that they wore the colours of Imladris. A look from his mother warned him to say nothing; in silence, he rode after Bregolien.

* * *

Glorfindel heard the trees calling out to him. Though it went against every instinct, he forced himself to draw rein and go to them.

"What is it? Where are they?"

_They are out of the forest_, one of the trees responded, sounding troubled. _We could not get word to them in time. If there is anything we can do – _

"Tell Elrond!"

With that, and forcing himself to ignore the trees' muttering about Elven haste, he urged his horse forward again.

* * *

In Imladris, nearly every resident of the Last Homely House was awake. Those who had not been roused by the unexpected arrival of Thranduil's messengers had been woken by Glorfindel's unceremonious departure.

Elladan and Elrohir paced Erestor's study nervously. They were waiting there, with Celebrían and Erestor himself, for any news that might come to the house, while Elrond was outside with most of the warriors. The silence in the room was absolute.

Just as Elladan was about to say something to break it, the door opened.

"It goes ill," Elrond said grimly from the doorway. "Fortune is against us this night."

* * *

Legolas gave a small start of astonishment when he saw the High Pass looming before them. Then a glance at the stars told him that they had been riding for some time, and he shook his head. A warrior should never let his concentration waver.

"You are weary, _penneth_," Lindariel murmured, as though she had sensed his thought. "But we will be home soon."

Legolas nodded.

Had he not been so exhausted, and driven to distraction by worry for his father, he might have heard the soft rasp of steel and the rustle of cloth. As it was, he noticed nothing until he saw cloaked forms stepping out from behind boulders and outcroppings to form a line blocking their path.

* * *

About that cliffie… *hides*

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	11. First Blood

**Disclaimer: **Tolkien's. All of it.

Thanks to XoLikeWoahxO, mikinyet, awaylaughingonafastcamel, DanceToTheCadence., Nek0Nek0, n, Silivren Tinu, Lauren Hedgehog, momiji'sunusedhalo and Cushion for reviewing the last chapter.

This nearly didn't get posted today – my desktop emitted strange sparks and then went into a coma and the tech support guys would just me if I was _completely_ certain that I had remembered to plug it in and turn it on. However, one sweaty afternoon of playing hardware engineer later, most of the data is safely on my laptop.

I hope you like the chapter. *g*

**Warning: **Angst and violence begin here. Most of the Elf-torture will be off-screen, and this chapter is not all that bad, so this is just a heads-up in case anyone is revolted by the very idea.

* * *

**Chapter 11: First Blood**

Legolas drew closer to his mother protectively, reaching for his bow and pulling an arrow from his quiver. He hoped his weariness would not affect his aim.

"Be careful," Lindariel murmured. "There are many of them. Perhaps if we give them something they will let us go in peace. That will be enough for now. Thranduil can send warriors to deal with them later."

Despite her words, she reached to her belt for the small hunting knife that hung there.

"No, my queen," Bregolien hissed, riding up on her other side. "You stay out of this. I would not have you put at risk. We can handle them."

Lindariel looked at the figures blocking their path. They were too stocky of build to be Elves, but even Men could defeat Elven warriors if their numbers were good enough. There were at least a dozen cloaked forms in the open, and Elbereth only knew how many more still hiding.

"Talk to them," she urged. "There is no need for bloodshed if we can possibly avoid it. It may be that they only want –"

"There is a need for bloodshed, my queen," Bregolien breathed. "But perhaps not in the way you imagine."

Legolas turned to stare at the other Elf, but before he could speak he heard hooves behind him. He turned around in relief, expecting to see the Imladrin warriors –

And barely bit back a cry of dismay when he saw more cloaked and hooded Men, these mounted on horses, blocking the way back. His fist clenched around his bow. There was no conceivable way he and Bregolien could fight off so many. The best they could hope for was to cut open a path for his mother to escape and hold the Men while she fled.

He hoped it would not be too difficult to get her to agree to follow that course.

* * *

"They are – where are they, _Ada_?" Elrohir asked.

"I do not know. We only know that they left the forest, heading for the High Pass. It will be some time before Glorfindel gets to them – they have quite a head start. I am going to send some more warriors –"

"Let us go with them, _Ada_," Elladan begged.

"Do not be absurd," Elrond said curtly. "Bregolien is crazed. We do not know what he plans or what will await you if you follow him. I will not have you risking your lives –"

"But, _Ada_, Legolas is there!" Elrohir protested. "You cannot expect us to sit here doing nothing while our friend is in danger! We will be safe enough with all the warriors and Glorfindel. Please, let us go with them. We will not take any foolish risks or do anything stupid, but we cannot stay here waiting!"

Elrond hesitated and glanced at Celebrían, who shrugged.

"You will obey Glorfindel and the captains and do everything you are told?" he asked. "Even if you are told to flee or to hide?"

The twins exchanged a glance and said in unison, "Yes, _Ada_."

* * *

Bregolien hesitated. He knew the moment to reveal himself was near – he had a feeling Lindariel did not entirely trust him in any case – but so long as Legolas believed him and the Elven-queen was not entirely certain whether or not to do so, he had an advantage.

Still... He knew he must know either forgo that advantage, or risk the ruin of all his plans.

He glanced at Legolas. The Elf-prince was still looking from one line of Men to the other, not suspecting that an attack might come from beside him. Bregolien's lip curled in contempt. So foolish... so trusting... Legolas deserved whatever he got.

Bregolien bent forward to take Lindariel's arm.

"If I may speak to you for a moment, my queen. I believe we may be able to negotiate with them." Legolas shot him a startled glance as he drew Lindariel aside, but returned his suspicious gaze to the Men at once, clearly wondering in which direction to start shooting first.

He could see a group of riders approaching the slope – riders from Imladris, no doubt sent by Elrond to spy on him. He had only minutes.

Bregolien made up his mind.

In one swift movement he knocked the knife from Lindariel's hand, pulled her around, and put his dagger to her throat.

"Move and she dies, Legolas."

The young Elf stared at him with mingled shock and horror.

"What – how – what are you _doing_?"

"Drop your bow."

"But –"

"_Now!_" Bregolien pressed the dagger to the queen's throat, drawing a thin trickle of blood. "Do you think I jest? Drop the bow!"

"Legolas, no," Lindariel said desperately. "Do not listen to him, _ion nîn_."

"Drop the bow, Legolas, or I will kill her now."

Without a word, Legolas dropped his bow. The clatter as it hit the ground was loud in the stillness that seemed to have descended on the world.

"Very good," Bregolien said, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I knew you could be taught to be reasonable. Now your knives."

Legolas pulled his knives from their sheath. For just a moment, he considered throwing one at Bregolien. As though sensing his thought, the other Elf dismounted, pulling Lindariel off her horse as well and holding her before him as a shield.

"Do not even try it," he growled, his dagger still at the queen's throat. "Drop them, Legolas. _Now._"

The knives fell.

"The quiver."

"Legolas, no! Do not listen to him! He will –"

Bregolien gave her a rough shake; she gasped and fell silent.

"Legolas, if you do not obey me _quickly_ I will kill her. Do as I tell you. Drop the quiver."

Biting his lip, Legolas undid the straps that held his quiver to his back and let it fall to the ground. The arrows spilled from it as it fell, metal points sparking on the stone.

"Dismount."

"Legolas, do not –"

"_Dismount!_"

Legolas slipped off his horse, sensing her consternation as she nudged his back with her nose. Lindariel eyed him with nervousness, Bregolien with satisfaction, as he stood unarmed between the two lines of waiting Men.

Bregolien turned to one of the Men, who appeared to be the leader.

"Kill him. Slowly."

* * *

Glorfindel rode through the forest at a full-out gallop. Only Elven horses could have run so long, so fast. He stroked Asfaloth's flank, murmuring a promise of plenty of rest later if he could only reach Bregolien in time now.

The trees were silent, sensing the seriousness of the situation.

Glorfindel glanced up at the stars, which twinkled down on him as benignly as ever, and at the gibbous moon. They seemed to be beacons of hope, and yet he knew that it would be madness to hope. Bregolien had nearly a day's head start, and now he knew he was being pursued. They could not possibly hope to reach him in time.

Eyes narrowed in determination, the Elf-lord rode on.

* * *

As the Man dismounted and walked towards him, as he heard another behind him do the same, Legolas fumbled at his back for the knives he had already dropped.

"Do not _move_," Bregolien hissed. "Fight it and she dies. Do you understand, Legolas?" He tightened his grip on Lindariel as she began to struggle to break free. Then, without warning, he raised his voice and shouted over the heads of the watching men, "Elves of Imladris, I have seen you! You will stop _now_ or I will kill the Queen of Eryn Galen."

He gestured to the men to part; they did so swiftly, and Legolas saw the eight riders from Imladris, halted in their tracks by Bregolien's threat.

The Elf nodded, his pleased smile saying more than any words could.

"If you take one step further," he said conversationally, "I will kill the queen. I mean it." As if for emphasis, he scraped the dagger lightly across Lindariel's neck, drawing another trickle of blood. He looked at the Men. "Continue. I did not tell you to stop. You will not struggle, Legolas."

"No!" Lindariel screamed, clawing at Bregolien's restraining arm. "Legolas, no! Do not listen to him! I will be –"

"Be _silent_," Bregolien snapped. "The more you annoy me, the longer he will suffer before the end."

"Please," Lindariel begged. "Please, do not harm him." Legolas felt the man behind him seize his arms and pull them behind his back. "What has he ever done to hurt you? Legolas, do not let them – let him go, Bregolien, please! I will do anything you ask! What do you want of me?"

"I want you to be silent and watch, my queen," Bregolien said quietly.

The man in front of Legolas drove a fist sharply into his ribs. The young Elf grunted, feeling a bone break. He heard a soft cry from his mother.

"Do not hurt him," she pleaded.

Bregolien frowned at her, and said, suddenly, sharply, "Wait!"

The man in front of Legolas stopped short, staring at Bregolien in astonishment. "My lord," he rasped, the words in the Common Tongue sounding strange to the young Elf, "I thought you said he was to die."

"His mother shall decide his fate," Bregolien responded, turning Lindariel around so that he could look her in the eye. "Choose, my queen. He must die, but you can either grant him a quick death or condemn him to a slow one." He gestured to the man, who drew a knife and held it over Legolas' heart. "Say the word, my queen, and it will be over in moments. He will not feel a thing."

Lindariel stared at him in horror.

"You are out of your _mind_."

Bregolien gave her a wolfish grin.

"He will die, my queen. You can do nothing to prevent that. All you can do is choose _how _he will die. Tell me, will you grant him the mercy of a quick death?"

Lindariel could scarcely believe that this was happening, that it was real, that it was not some horrible nightmare from which she would wake to find herself still in Imladris and Legolas safe and asleep in his bed.

"Please," she whispered. "Please... Let him go."

"Will you grant him a quick death, my queen?"

Lindariel squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mouth to say yes – at least that much she could do for her son, no matter how it grieved her – but something made her stop. As long as Legolas was alive, no matter how much pain he was in, there was a chance. She _had _to hope that Elrond had realized something was wrong, she had to hope Glorfindel or one of the other Elf-lords was on his way to them at that very minute, she had to hope that there _was _hope.

"Hurry, my queen, or I will choose for you. Will you grant your son a quick death?"

"No," Lindariel ground out, her voice carrying easily through the night. She looked at Legolas. He was being held by one of the men, although she did not doubt that if it had not been for Bregolien's threat to kill her, he could have overpowered his captor easily. The blue eyes looking into hers were reassuring: Legolas understood. Lindariel would have smiled. "No," she repeated softly. "I will not."

Bregolien's smile widened in the darkness.

"How guilty will that make you feel, I wonder, when you realize that there is no help coming and you have only prolonged his suffering needlessly?" He turned her around to face Legolas again. "Go on."

Lindariel bowed her head; she had asked for this, but she could not bear to look. Bregolien shook her.

"You will watch, my queen," he growled. "You will watch every minute of this."

Lindariel sensed the Imladrin warriors tensing. Had she been clear of Bregolien, they might have acted. She could not suppress a gasp as the first blow connected with Legolas' jaw. She felt rather than heard Bregolien's soft laughter, and suddenly she was furious. This foul traitor could _not_ be allowed to harm her son, he –

And then she realized that, all his attention on Legolas and the two men, Bregolien had slackened his grip on her arms.

With a wordless cry, Lindariel wrenched herself free, ducking to avoid his blade, and launched herself at Legolas. She reached him just as the man was about to land another blow to his chest; the man turned in alarm; Lindariel pushed Legolas to the ground and an arrow whistled over their heads. The silence stretched on interminably.

Suddenly, Legolas grinned at her in the darkness, reaching for his knives, which were lying on the ground nearby.

"The odds do not seem so bad now," he said, scrambling to his feet and pulling her up as well. "Stay behind me."

The eight Elves of Imladris galloped the last few yards up the slope. Bregolien called to one line of Men to face them and the other to block the way forward. The High Pass erupted into chaos.

* * *

"What if we are not in time?" Elrohir gasped. He and Elladan were riding surrounded by half a dozen Elves, all experienced warriors, and all looking grim at the thought of what might be waiting for them somewhere on the road.

"We _will_ be in time," Elladan responded fiercely. "It cannot be otherwise."

"But they have so much of a head start – who knows what Bregolien has done by now?" Elrohir shivered. "If – if anything has happened –"

"Do not say it," Elladan said, reaching over to pat his brother's hand. "Do not think it. Such a thing cannot happen. We will be in time, Ro. We will find Legolas and the queen before Bregolien can do anything to them. The Elfling will be unharmed, and we will kill that foul – that evil –"

He bit his lip and broke off.

No matter what he said, Elladan knew that the road was long, that they were too far behind, that there was very little chance that they would be in time to do anything but pick up the pieces.

* * *

Thranduil, who had fallen into a fitful doze for the first time in days, woke with a start.

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Ion nîn_ – My son

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please let me know!


	12. Flight

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine.

Thanks to JastaElf, awaylaughingonafastcamel, mikinyet, Silivren Tinu, momiji'sunusedhalo, Cushion, XoLikeWoahxO and Escape my reality for reviewing the last chapter.

Well, my desktop's working again. :)

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Flight**

Legolas blinked. The world was sliding in and out of focus. He did not remember ever having been so tired in his life. He felt his knives trembling in his grip; it took him a moment to realize that it was his hands that were shaking.

"Legolas?" He heard his mother's worried voice behind him, felt her hand on his shoulder. "Legolas, what is it? Are you all right?"

About to respond, he sensed the movement in front of him just in time to raise his knives and block Bregolien's sword. He managed to keep blocking as the other Elf attacked. He was too weary to do more than that; fortunately, all the gruelling practice Glorfindel had put him and the twins through of late had ensured that he could at least defend himself, no matter how tired he was.

"Very good, Elfling," Bregolien murmured. "I did not expect you to last this long. But how much longer can you hold?"

Legolas, concentrating on not dropping his knives, said nothing. His opponent gave a mocking laugh and redoubled the force of his attack, and suddenly the young Elf found himself being pushed back step by step until he had his back to solid stone. It was only through a supreme effort of will that he kept his head up and his hands closed around the hilts of his knives; he wanted nothing more than to drop the weapons and sink to the ground.

Suddenly, a blade swung towards Bregolien from behind and he spun away to face it. With a sigh, Legolas let his arms fall and leaned back against the stone.

"Legolas!" He could hear Lindariel but he could not see her face very clearly. The world was blurring. "Legolas, what is it? What is wrong? Legolas, can you _hear_ me?" She seized his shoulders and shook him. "Legolas!"

Then her hands were off him and someone else had a tight grip on his upper arms, looking into his eyes.

"He has been drugged, my queen."

"_What!_ How?"

"I cannot say… You have been riding with Bregolien all day. Who knows what he slipped into Legolas' food or water? You must get him away from here."

"Can you tell what he has been given?"

"No… My queen, you _must_ get him away. He cannot fight like this. Can you ride, Legolas?"

"Yes," the young Elf gasped. "But I can stay and fight –"

"Good," the warrior said, ignoring the second part of his statement. "My queen, I suspect Bregolien has more men concealed on the way back to Imladris. I saw signs of them as we passed. It will be best if you ride on towards Greenwood. We will keep him distracted. We will capture him if we can and kill him if we must. But _you _must ride hard and get as far as you can. I would not be surprised if he has planned for this. There is no point taking chances."

Lindariel nodded.

"_Le hannon_. Legolas, come."

* * *

"Halt!" The captain turned, surveying the small company. "We must rest the horses. We will go on in fifteen minutes."

Elrohir dismounted and stretched. He wanted to go on, but he knew that they would not get far if they tired the horses too much; not even Elven horses could run through the night without any rest. He heard Elladan do the same thing behind him.

He turned to speak to his brother, but to his surprise Elladan just grimaced and sprawled on the ground with his back to a large tree.

Elrohir dropped the ground beside Elladan.

"_Man sa?_"

"How could I not foresee this?" Elladan whispered. "I was riding with Bregolien all day – more than a day. I was _with_ him, I was speaking to him… well… I was _trying_ to speak to him. I should have noticed something was wrong. I certainly had enough time. None of this would have happened if I had only paid more attention!"

"It was not your fault," Elrohir protested. "We have never known him very well. How were you to notice any change in his manner? Legolas has patrolled under his command, and Legolas did not notice anything amiss."

"Legolas spent the day racing through the woods with you."

"Dan, this is _not_ your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is Bregolien."

"If something happens to Lindariel or to Legolas –"

"It will _still_ not be your fault," Elrohir said earnestly. "You know that. _Ada_ and _Nana_ saw Bregolien. So did Glorfindel."

"They suspected him at once."

"They suspected he was lying, but they did not imagine the extent of the malice in his soul. _Ada_ would never have let him leave Imladris if he had had the tiniest inkling – and he would certainly not have let the queen and Legolas leave with him." Elrohir patted his brother's hand. "Anyway, if you want to indulge in self-recrimination, this is hardly the time! At least wait until we have Legolas and Lindariel safely in Imladris and Bregolien in the dungeon."

Elladan only nodded.

* * *

Thranduil stood alone on his balcony. He sensed – he could not say exactly what he sensed, but whatever it was, it was danger. His hands were clenched on the parapet, knuckles white.

All around him, the forest noises went on as usual.

* * *

The last hours had gone by in a haze for Legolas. He vaguely remembered being hustled onto his mare and ordered to keep a slack grip on the reins. It had grown more and more difficult to stay awake through the ride that followed, his thoughts growing slower and his mind fuzzier. He was certain that even if Bregolien had turned up he would have been able to do nothing more than stand and wait to be run through.

Without warning, his horse came to an abrupt stop. Legolas was nearly pitched over her head. He shook his head, succeeding in clearing it marginally, and looked at his mother. She was eyeing him with concern.

"I am perfectly fine," he muttered.

"You are not fine at all, _penneth_," she countered. "Get down."

Legolas dismounted obediently, and discovered that he needed his mother's help to stay standing. She made no comment, supporting his weight easily.

"I do not know what to do now," Lindariel murmured. "We are far, but not far enough. Our tracks will be easy for him to follow. We must stop somewhere, Legolas. The horses need rest, and you need rest. If we were out of these accursed plains and in the forest we would be able to find a safe place, or at least a place with enough trees around to warn us of danger, and to take word to Thranduil."

"There must be caves somewhere," Legolas replied, although he could not suppress a shudder at the thought of spending time hemmed in by stone walls.

"I do not think there are any caves here. I do not know how long it will take us to reach the cover of trees… perhaps another day of riding. I want you in the care of the healers as soon as possible. You are already beginning to run a fever –"

"I am _fine_."

Lindariel went on as though he had not spoken.

"I have no idea what he has drugged you with or even when he did it. I hope it is only a drug, and not poison. If I could only get word to Elrond and Celebrían…" She sighed. "Come. We have to find a place to spend what little is left of the night. There is no point successfully evading Bregolien if you collapse before we return home."

"But _where_?" Legolas asked. "I do not know this land. If there is nowhere we can hide –"

"We will find a place," Lindariel said resolutely.

"_Nana_ – no. You cannot do this. He cannot be far behind us. I cannot protect you if he comes. You cannot risk your life like that. Please! We do not have to ride. We can walk the horses to rest them, but we cannot stop."

"Walk?" his mother replied incredulously. "You will _walk_? You cannot even stand!"

"Then you must go on. I will follow as soon as I can. Do not worry about me, _Nana_. I can defend myself –"

"Against a six-year-old Elfling, perhaps," Lindariel said, rolling her eyes. "Do not be foolish, Legolas. I have no intention of leaving you alone. There is no point arguing about it. We are going to stop as soon as we see a copse or some boulders or _anything_ that might hide us from the road."

"But –"

"I will use physical force if I must, Legolas. You are not in a position to stop me just now."

* * *

"And this is where we part?"

"Yes." Aeroniel eyed both paths one last time before making up her mind. "Saeldur and I will go further south. If we do not encounter any signs by the time we reach the Redhorn Pass, we will cross it and take the road to Imladris. You two stay here and warn Lord Arbellason or Lord Thorontur at once if anything happens."

"You do realize –"

"That the king has already sent warriors? For the thousandth time, Eredhion, _yes_. I do. But _we_ know the forest. Besides, would _you_ have been content to be on patrol duty outside the palace? We must do something."

"I am just reminding everyone that this is _not_ my fault."

"What is not your fault?" Voronwë asked.

"Whatever punishment is visited upon us when we eventually return to the palace!"

* * *

Elrohir nudged Elladan. "I think we are there – look! There has been a battle! Those are the warriors _Ada_ sent with Bregolien."

"I do not see Legolas or the queen," Elladan said, his gaze raking frantically over the warriors. With the sun just rising behind the mountains, he could not make out details, but he could tell that their friend and his mother were not among the others. "Where are they? Do you think –"

"_No._" Elrohir drew in a deep breath. "No. Come... Hurry! Glorfindel is there already. He will know what to do."

Breaking away from the rest of the warriors, the two young Elves galloped up the slope to where several _ellyn_ were helping the injured and clearing away bodies. Elrohir noted with a shudder that not all of the bodies were of Men. He averted his eyes from the sight of a cloak being drawn over a too-still Elven face, turning his attention to Glorfindel instead.

"What happened?"

"Ambush," Glorfindel said briefly, eyes darkening with anger. "Bregolien seems to have laid his plans in advance. He had men waiting in the pass... More than enough to have slain Legolas and Lindariel, had your father not thought of sending guards."

"Where – where are they, my lord?"

"Legolas and Lindariel?" Glorfindel asked, turning from a conversation with one of the others. "We do not know. It appears Bregolien drugged Legolas. Lindariel managed to get him away, but we have no way of knowing how far they managed to go."

"But they are safe?" Elrohir asked hopefully.

"I hope so, _penneth_."

"Can we go after them?" Elladan asked. "They will need help."

Before Glorfindel could answer, one of the younger warriors hastened up to the three of them in a state of panic.

"Lord Glorfindel," he gasped, "Bregolien – he is gone. There is no sign of him among the dead or the injured. He must have noticed that Legolas and the queen were not here and gone after them."

Glorfindel was already running before he began shouting orders.

* * *

Bregolien, accompanied by two men and fresh horses, rode through the dawn with a smile of distinct satisfaction. The sight of it seemed to unnerve his companions.

"How long until they notice we are gone, my lord?" one of the men asked.

Bregolien shrugged.

"They may have noticed already. It does not matter. Not even Elven horses can run day and night without rest. They will not catch up with us."

"And those we chase?"

"Their horses were tired as well," the Elf responded, his smile broadening, although no hint of it reached his eyes. "However… Even if they have obtained fresh horses somewhere, it will do them no good. They cannot get far, not with what I put in Legolas' food yesterday. He must be greatly weakened by now. Lindariel will have to stop, or go on without him. Either way, it serves my purpose." He grimaced. "I do not know _how_ they managed to slip away without my seeing – but I will find out."

"My lord, what of the others?"

"Others? What others?"

"Our companions – in the pass."

"Ah," Bregolien murmured, his gaze growing contemplative. "_Those_ others. I would not dwell on them too much. I doubt we will see them again."

"You think they will… lose… my lord?"

"I think Thranduil's messengers would have reached Imladris sometime yesterday, and Elrond, not being a fool, would have sent his best warriors after us. They will probably be massacred. I expect it has happened already. It was a necessary sacrifice."

The men exchanged a glance. Bregolien, guessing their thoughts, laughed shortly.

"You need not worry. I do not know whether we will be able to capture Lindariel, but we will surely have Legolas. There will be no need for sacrifices once we have caught him. Thranduil is inordinately fond of his son, and that makes him weak."

* * *

"Legolas!" The young Elf, vaguely aware of his name being called, opened his eyes with a grimace.

"_Nana?_"

"I am sorry, _penneth_," the Elven-queen said regretfully. "I would let you rest, but Bregolien is coming, and there are men with him. We must go on."

"How do you know?" Legolas murmured drowsily. "Can we not hide?"

"The trees." He felt an arm around his shoulders, and he was hauled to his feet. "Your fever is getting worse… Your skin is burning. We must get you to the healers, Legolas. We would have to go on even if he were _not_ coming. I dare not give you anything to lower your fever without knowing how it will react with what _he_ has given you."

"No." Legolas shook his head slightly to clear it, wishing the world would stay in focus. "_Nana_, you must go. I will slow you down –"

"Again? I thought we were finished with that nonsense."

"He _will_ catch up unless you go on alone."

"I will take that chance –"

"_No._" Legolas snatched at his mother's hand. "_Nana_, please. I am not asking you to flee and leave me, just… bring help. You cannot get me back home on your own. That would take over two days if we had fresh horses. But if you ride on, you will soon come to areas where the trees are thicker… And _Ada_ will send somebody."

Lindariel looked at her son with a frown. She knew he was only saying what he was to make her go, but she could not deny the truth of his statement. A hard ride would rob him of what strength he had left.

"I will get you into a tree," she said at last, "and there you will _stay_ until I return for you or one of our warriors or Elrond's warriors comes."

* * *

Arbellason took one look at Thranduil's face and sighed.

"I _had_ hoped you would sleep last night."

"I did," the Elven-king replied, "in the beginning. But then I woke. They are in danger."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Man sa?_ – What is it?  
_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy  
_Nana _– Mum/Mummy  
_Penneth_ - Young one

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	13. Caught!

**Disclaimer: **Nothing is mine.

Thanks to mikinyet, Escape my reality, XoLikeWoahxO, Jaidiene Kyyur, Nek0Nek0, MDarKspIrIt, Silivren Tinu, momiji'sunusedhalo, awaylaughingonafastcamel and Muse10 for the reviews (and yenneffer for the PM – I hope the site starts behaving normally soon).

**Warnings:** Well, you know by now. I couldn't put the moment off any longer. *sighs*

* * *

**Chapter 13: Caught!**

_Someone approaches._

Legolas jerked out of his doze to stare at the tree.

_My mother?_

_No… Someone approaches from the other side. I do not know who it is yet, but I fear… Stay hidden, Elfling._

_Bregolien? Already?_ Legolas scrambled up onto the branch above. _How? He cannot have caught up with us so soon!_

_Stay where you are and all will be well, Elfling,_ the tree counselled. _I__ will not let him see you. None will tell him where you are. He will probably pass us by without even realizing you are here._

_No!_ Legolas felt at the strap that held his quiver to his back, checking that it was tight. _If I let him go he will follow my mother. I have to stop him._

_What? Are you out of your mind? You are in condition to stop anyone! Stay where you are!_

_Where is my horse?_ Legolas asked. _She said she bade it stay out of sight. If I can get down and get to it – _

_You are not going anywhere_, the tree snapped, swaying slightly in its fury. _I have been charged to keep you safe, and safe you will stay, Elfling. Stay here! You cannot stop him! You know perfectly well that you cannot stop him._

_The road forks ahead - which did she take?_

_The northern one. That is not the point. You are not – stop that! _A branch swayed away out of Legolas' reach. _I will not let you get down._

_If you do not help me, I will jump_, Legolas said calmly, prompting the tree, with one final angry shake, to stop swaying. _I am sorry, _mellon nîn_. I have to go. I cannot let him catch up with my mother._

_How do you plan to stop him?_

_I cannot stop him_, the young Elf said grimly. _But I can lead him away._

* * *

Lindariel drew rein and dismounted. Her horse was tired, but she was not. She would make far better time running than riding.

"Follow as you can," she murmured, patting its nose. "I have need for haste."

She knew the road well, having made the journey from Eryn Galen to Imladris several times. That was good, because it meant she could go that much faster, and bad, because it left her mind free to worry about Legolas.

She had told him to stay hidden until someone came for him, but she was perfectly sure he would do nothing of the kind. If the need for a healer had not been so urgent, she would never have left him alone. Even now, all she intended to do was to get to where the trees grew closer, send word to Thranduil, and go straight back to her son.

She had a terrible feeling that she would not find him there when she returned.

* * *

Thranduil, standing in Legolas' room, started at the sound of a footstep behind him. He turned, half-hoping it would be his son, knowing that it was impossible for Legolas to have returned already, and unable to conceal his disappointment entirely when he saw Thorontur instead.

The other Elf laughed.

"You need not look so unhappy at the sight of me. What are you doing here?"

"I do not know which of them I should worry about more," Thranduil said in response. "I do not even understand _why_… I know Bregolien resents me, but why should _they_ suffer for it?"

"We will find him, _mellon nîn_. You must have faith that all will be well."

"I wish I could. If I had not been so eager to be reasonable… If I had just forbidden him all visitors, we would still hold him safely."

"Do not regret that you are not a tyrant. If you had been the type of king to forbid him all visitors, you would not have been a king we could all respect and admire." Thorontur patted his friend's shoulder. "Nor, I might add, would you have been the Elf Lindariel fell in love with."

"Yes, but my over-kindliness has put them in danger."

"I am sure they would both prefer that you were over-kind than over-cruel."

Thranduil shivered.

"When Legolas was a child, before he had learnt control of his dreams, he always ran into our bedroom when he had nightmares. And I always took him back to bed and… and promised him that I would never let anything hurt him."

"You cannot always keep him safe, Thranduil. He is a warrior, and he is _your_ son."

"How will he ever feel any affection for me if I must always be king before I am his father? I should be ensuring his wellbeing, as any other parent would; instead I will have to order him into battle and danger."

"He is fond of you."

"That is because he has not yet realized what his duties will eventually entail."

* * *

Legolas heaved himself onto his horse with difficulty. His head was pounding, his hands shaking too much to grasp the reins, but he managed to retain enough lucidity to whisper, "South. We must go south."

As he spoke, his sharp ears caught hoof beats on the road behind him. He turned for the briefest glance at the approaching riders. Bregolien was in the lead, with two men following him. He met Legolas' gaze with a smile that made the young Elf shudder and look away.

"Go," he murmured to the horse. "But slowly… Slowly. I want him to have sight of us until we are on the southern road. Then we can worry about escape."

He tried to stay conscious as the horse began to trot forward obediently, but it was a losing cause. The afternoon sun was blazing hot. His thoughts were as thick as treacle. It was not long before the world dissolved into darkness.

* * *

"We are falling behind," Elrohir said, despair tingeing his voice. "We will not be in time."

"We _will_ be in time." Elladan spoke fiercely, as though he would slow Bregolien down by willpower alone. "We will be in time, and we will stop him. It cannot be any other way. It would be too unfair."

"Who said things must be fair?" Elrohir shook his head. "If things were going to be _fair_, Bregolien would never have escaped Thranduil's dungeons. What if he has acted before we get to him? If we can never ride through the woods with Legolas again, to whom will we complain that it is unfair?"

"Ro…" Elladan reached over to squeeze his brother's hand. "You must have faith. We will be in time – we _must_ be in time."

"If we are not?"

"Then we will have vengeance," Elladan said simply.

"That will change nothing."

"It will ensure that Bregolien's malice harms nobody else. But do not speak of these things. We will be in time. This will all be over soon."

* * *

When Legolas regained awareness, the first thing he knew was that his head was still spinning. The next thing he knew was that his wrists had been bound behind his back and he was propped up against a tree.

He opened his eyes a crack, peering through his lashes.

It seemed to be late afternoon. Bregolien was sitting on a log nearby, giving rapid orders in the Common Speech to a pair of men standing before him. The men did not speak, responding only with grunts and nods.

_Elfling!_ the tree said gleefully. _You are awake!_

_Aye._

_How do you feel? When he brought you here I feared you were dead. I tried to tell somebody, but there are no other trees near enough to hear me._

_He probably thought of that. _Legolas' thoughts were coming slowly. _Where are we?_

_In your terms? I do not know. This is not a road that is frequented by the Firstborn. You must get away. He means you harm. Can you stand?_

_I do not think so_, Legolas responded reluctantly. _I can try._

_No,_ the tree advised. _If you are not certain of your strength, d__o not waste it now. Even if you did get away, you would not get far. He has said he plans to take you into the forest. Wait until he does that. The trees there will be able to help you._

Before Legolas could respond, Bregolien looked up and saw his half-open eyes. A grin broke out on his face.

"Legolas. At last! I have been wanting to speak to you." He got to his feet and strolled over to Legolas, his grin broadening at the sight of the younger Elf's obvious discomfort. "I expect you were trying to lead me away from your mother. Very brave, Legolas, and very foolish. I assure you that you will have ample opportunity to regret your folly before the end."

"What do you want?" Legolas demanded, the thickness in his voice preventing the words from coming out as imperiously as he would have liked.

Bregolien chuckled.

"Listen to you trying to sound like your father. I am going to enjoy making you scream. Not here," he added, as Legolas gave an involuntary flinch. "Elrond's warriors were attempting to follow me. I do not have time to waste now. I stopped only because I did not want you dying on my hands so soon." He bent forward. "You will not die so easily, Legolas, I promise you."

"But _why_? Why are you doing this?"

"Why? It really is too detailed to explain now. Enough for you to know that I want to break our beloved Elven-king. You are his greatest weakness."

"You will never break my father," Legolas spat.

"Will I not?" Bregolien reached for Legolas' cloak, fingering the clasp that held it in place. "Not even if I send him a torn and bloodied garment that he is bound to recognize as belonging to his beloved child?" He chuckled at Legolas' expression. "Oh, I know it is not torn and bloodied yet. By the time I have finished with you, it will be."

He stood abruptly, hauling Legolas roughly to his feet.

"Come. We have a long way to travel. Much though I would like to begin bloodying your cloak at once, we cannot linger here."

Legolas, half-conscious, could only let himself be dragged along.

* * *

It was evening when Glorfindel finally called a halt.

"The horses are tired. We must stop or risk one of them tripping in the darkness." Seeing the twins' expressions of dismay, he added gently, "I know you are worried. But you know that if we do not rest the horses, they will not last as long as we need them to."

"Can we at least scout ahead?" Elrohir asked. "The traces of their passage may be gone by morning."

Glorfindel smiled at him in understanding.

"I do not doubt we will be able to find their tracks in the morning. If it will make you feel better, you may go. Not alone, though. I will send somebody with you."

* * *

Thranduil was sitting in his study with Thorontur, poking at the dinner that his friend had brought him and insisted he eat.

"You still know where the children are?" he asked suddenly.

Thorontur nodded.

"I had expected them to give us less cause for worry with your son away, but apparently they are just as capable of getting in trouble without his assistance. We know where they are. One thing they have _not_ learnt from Legolas is how to persuade the trees to abet their mischief."

Thranduil smiled, just for a moment, before his eyes darkened again.

"I would be glad to have to deal with his mischief now."

* * *

When Legolas next woke, it was to darkness. The stars glimmered faintly: clouds were gathering. He was on horseback, someone holding him in place with hands that were far from gentle.

"We are almost there," Bregolien's voice breathed in his ear. "Do not worry, Elfling. The cloak will be ready to send your father soon."

Something in his tone made Legolas look up. He realized with a thrill of relief that they were in the forest, or at least in the midst of close-growing clumps of trees that would eventually thicken into the forest. Before he could call out to the trees, though, Bregolien gave him a hard shake.

"Do not even _think_ about it." He glared at the trees. "I know you can hear me, so there is no point feigning ignorance. You will tell _nobody_ where I am taking the little prince. If one single Elf hears, I promise you he will suffer for it."

"No," Legolas gasped, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "No, please – do not listen to him. You must tell my father –"

Bregolien landed a blow to his lower ribs, managing, even at that awkward angle, to put enough force into it to make Legolas double over in pain.

"You think I do not mean what I say?" he hissed to the trees. "Try me. If I have the slightest reason to believe that one of you has given my location away to _anyone_, you will find out how much torture one Elf can take before he dies."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	14. In Enemy Hands

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine.

Thanks to mikinyet, Silivren Tinu, yenneffer, Jaidiene Kyyur, Escape my reality, XoLikeWoahxO, lauren hedgehog and momiji'sunusedhalo for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 14: In Enemy Hands**

_Someone is coming._

Eredhion, who had been leaning drowsily against the tree trunk, sat up with a start.

_Someone? Who?_

_Your queen. She is in haste. I think… she is afraid._

_Only the queen?_ Eredhion asked frantically. _What about Legolas? Is he with her?_

_She is alone._

_Where is she?_

_Almost due west of here. It will take you perhaps an hour's ride to reach her._

Cursing, Eredhion leapt to the ground. A thump nearby told him that Voronwë had done the same thing. There was no need to say anything: he knew Voronwë was feeling the same mixture of wild hope and nerve-racking fear as he was.

In dead silence, they rode.

* * *

"This is hopeless!" Elladan flung himself off his horse with a frustrated grimace. "There is no sign of Bregolien – there is no sign of _anything_! There is no sign that anybody was ever here! We do not even know if we are on the right road."

Elrohir dismounted and squeezed his brother's shoulder gently.

"We will find them. Perhaps Legolas and Lindariel took care to leave no marks for others to read. At least there has been nothing to suggest a struggle. They may be fine – they may even have gained the forest."

"No," Elladan breathed, his eyes dark. "I do not think it is going to be that easy."

"Neither do I," Elrohir admitted. "I say that when we get Legolas out of this we take him back to Imladris and keep him locked in his room for a few weeks. At least we will be able to sleep easily knowing he is safe!"

"I think we will even have Thranduil's approval for that," Elladan said, smiling.

Elrohir grinned back at his brother and then turned to look around for any indication that they were on the right trail.

"There!" he said suddenly, pointing. "That is the first clump of trees I have seen for some time. They may be able to help us – if Legolas and Lindariel passed this way, _one_ of them would surely have stopped for a word with the trees. They may even have rested the horses there."

Trailed by the two guards Glorfindel had sent with them, the young Elves made their way to the group of trees Elrohir had seen. Almost as soon as they reached it, they knew something had happened – the trees were agitated about something, and one of them seemed particularly upset. They were assailed with a torrent of questions and threats the moment the trees sensed their presence.

_Where are they? Have you seen them?_

_Do you mean them any harm?_

_If you mean them harm –_

_It is all _my_ fault! Tell the _elleth_ I am sorry. I did not intend to let the Elfling get down but he simply would not listen –_

_Be quiet! We do not even know if they are friends or not. You will be giving away her path next!_

_They must be friends – are you friends? I must warn you, if you intend any harm to either of them –_

_It is my fault! I am so sorry!_

_Why do they not answer questions? Do you think they cannot hear us? Even among the Firstborn there are those who cannot hear us._

_All Elves can hear us if they wish. Some simply choose not to listen._

_There was that one Elf –_

_This is hardly the moment for a debate! We must ascertain their intentions. What are your intentions? Who are you? Do you –_

"Stop," Elrohir begged, holding up his hands. "We will answer your questions. We are friends to Lindariel and Legolas. We will explain everything. Can you help us find them? We are on the trail of one who intends to harm them. It is vital that we catch up with them before he has had a chance to carry out his plans."

There was a pause.

_We will help you._

* * *

When Legolas woke, the first thing he realized was that he could think clearly. His head no longer ached; he was not, he noted with a start, even tired. For one happy moment he thought he had been rescued, but then he felt his wrists still bound. He wriggled his legs experimentally and discovered that they had been tied as well.

With an effort, he opened his eyes.

He saw Bregolien sitting nearby, watching him, unnervingly still. He nodded when he saw that Legolas was awake.

"Hello, Elfling. Feeling better?"

Legolas did not bother to answer, looking around instead to try to work out where he was. They seemed to be in the forest now, in a clearing. The stars were still out. The trees were strangely silent; Bregolien had probably threatened them with something unpleasant if they attempted to speak. Of the two men who had been accompanying Bregolien there was no sign, although it was too much to hope that they were gone.

"Do not bother," Bregolien said, with a laugh that made Legolas shiver. "There is no escape for you. I gave you an antidote to the poison, if you are wondering why you feel so much better."

"Why?" Legolas asked, the word coming with difficulty from his dry throat.

"I do not plan to let you die so easily. You will _beg_ for death before I give it to you, Legolas. Our brave little warrior prince," Bregolien mocked. "I will see how brave you really are."

With some scrambling, Legolas managed to push himself up on his elbows and then to sit.

"Why are you doing this?"

Bregolien considered the question for a moment before responding.

"I will tell you, Elfling, but not yet. Now that you are awake, there are more _interesting_ things I want to do with you. Do not worry. There will be more than enough time to satisfy your curiosity."

He moved closer and crouch beside Legolas, the crazed gleam in his eyes making the younger Elf sidle away. Laughing again, Bregolien pulled out a knife and slashed through the ropes around Legolas' ankles. Before he could even think of escape, though, he was hauled to his feet and dragged to the nearest tree. Bregolien threaded a longer rope through the one tying his hands and tossed it over a branch. He pulled the loose end sharply, and Legolas could not suppress a gasp as his arms were wrenched cruelly upwards.

The tree said nothing, but he could sense its distress at being used for such a purpose. Before he could say anything to comfort it, Bregolien pulled the loose end of the rope down further, so that Legolas was dangling in the air with his feet several inches from the ground.

"And now," Bregolien murmured, sounding eerily calm, "we will begin."

* * *

Thranduil had not bothered even to try to sleep. He had been sitting in his study, but suddenly, without quite knowing why, he found himself getting to his feet and going to Legolas' room. He looked around helplessly, wondering what had drawn him, but there was no movement, no sound other than his own footsteps.

* * *

Lindariel nearly sobbed with relief when she saw two Elves garbed in the familiar green and brown emerge from the trees.

"My queen!" the nearer of them exclaimed, riding up to her. "What happened? Where is your horse?"

"Behind me," Lindariel gasped, barely noting that the Elves were two of her son's young friends. "Please – please – you must get help. We need healers. Legolas –"

She broke off, unable to continue.

"Legolas?" the young Elf asked anxiously. "What is wrong with him, my queen? Are you all right?"

"I am fine. Legolas – he has been poisoned. I had to leave him – to get help. I have to go back to him now, but please, please, you must send healers."

"My queen, you cannot go anywhere!" Eredhion laid a hand on her arm. "You must return home. The king is beside himself with worry. We will find Legolas and bring him back safely. Besides, you must be tired – how long have you been travelling without rest? We will find him."

"No," Lindariel said furiously. "You cannot expect me to abandon my son!"

"You will not be abandoning him, my queen. You will be sending us to help him. We will send word to the king now, and he will send healers as well."

"Do not be absurd. I am not going anywhere except back to Legolas."

"My queen, do you not trust us to help him?"

"That is not the point!" Lindariel glared at them. "If I go home now, I will be an Elf who abandoned her child to disaster while she fled to safety. Do you think I could live with myself after that?"

"You did not abandon him, my queen. You came to get help."

"I am going to Legolas, and that is the end of the matter. You may come with me if you wish, but I am not staying behind!"

Without waiting for a response, Lindariel reached out to the nearest tree.

_Can you send word to Thranduil? My son has been poisoned. We need healers. I left him on the road to the forest. I will go back for him, but –_

She broke off, sensing hesitation, and looked at the tree curiously.

_What is wrong?_

_I... I cannot tell you,_ the tree responded, and Lindariel was almost tempted to call its tone a whisper. She had a sudden sense of foreboding.

_What is it?_

_I cannot tell you_, the tree said desperately. _If he hears of it... He will do even more harm than he plans already._

_Harm?_

_To the Elfing,_ the tree said reluctantly.

_Legolas?_ Lindariel heard a sharp intake of breath behind her, but she did not pause. _He has Legolas? How – where is he?_

_I do not know how, my queen, or where. None can speak of it – they are in the forest, but only the trees in their immediate vicinity know where they are, and they cannot speak. He has threatened... terrible things..._

Lindariel's heart sank.

* * *

Elladan found later that he had no memory of their wild ride back through the night to where Glorfindel waited. The trees had not known what had happened after Legolas left them, but they had said he seemed weak.

Elladan knew, somehow, that Bregolien had caught up with him. Glancing at Elrohir, he had read the same knowledge in his twin's eyes.

Without a word, they had turned back.

The next thing Elladan knew, he was dismounting and pouring out his story, with frequent interjections from Elrohir. Glorfindel listened to them, his face growing steadily graver.

When he finished, all the older Elf said was, "Foolish child. I only hope he does not die for it." He gestured to the other warriors to prepare to leave. "We have no time to lose. If your conjecture is accurate and Bregolien has Legolas... His only chance lies in our finding them quickly." He studied the twins for a moment, and then lowered his voice. "Believe me, I truly dislike having to say this, but... You must be prepared for the fact that we may already be too late."

Elladan felt Elrohir's hand being slipped into his, and squeezed it tightly.

"We will not be too late," Elrohir whispered, for his ears alone. "I know we will not be too late."

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten when Bregolien finally, with a small smile, stepped back.

"I believe that will do for now."

Legolas bit back a groan. With an effort, he raised his head, managing to look Bregolien in the eye.

"_Why?_"

"I believe I have time to explain now," Bregolien answered. "But first –"

He sliced through the rope holding Legolas to the tree.

Legolas' feet hit the ground. He collapsed to his knees before he could steady himself, and discovered that he could not have stood on his own in any case. He could feel the broken ends of his collarbone scraping against each other when he moved his head, feel the blood already drying on his tunic.

Somehow, none of that seemed to matter.

"Why?" he repeated hoarsely.

Bregolien gave him a light shove, sending him sprawling against the trunk of the tree.

"Make yourself comfortable," the older Elf said with a feral smile. "This is the end of your life, after all." He dropped to the ground, sitting opposite Legolas as though telling a story across an invisible campfire. "You know my story, of course, Legolas... how my mother was taken by Avarin Elves and forced to wed one of them, how she returned to Eryn Galen with two children, how the daughter who was left in the care of my father's people was killed as a punishment for my mother's perceived disloyalty to them."

Legolas stared at him.

"I thought..."

"You thought I shared your Sindarin view that my father was an unspeakable abomination to hold his own daughter hostage to his ambitions? Oh, but I always understood him perfectly, Legolas. You have no way of knowing this, of course, but I think my mother cared for him in the beginning... before she realized what was in his heart."

"He wanted Eryn Galen," Legolas protested, although speaking made his ribs ache.

"He wanted far more than that, but Eryn Galen would have done for a start. Your father is a fool, and the fact that I am still alive proves that. If he had had the slightest sense he would have killed me then."

"My father is not a tyrant, to murder without cause!"

Bregolien nodded at Legolas.

"Your father will probably consider this more than sufficient cause. It is such a wonderful feeling, having this power… I could probably make your father do anything I wanted, in exchange for your life. But that is beside the point. As I say, I understood my father, and I could not forget my sister's death."

"But... all that was centuries ago! It was before I was even born! Why are you doing... this... now?"

"Do you not understand? I want what my father wanted. I want Eryn Galen."

Legolas glared at him.

"My father will never give in to you!"

"You see?" Bregolien said with a sigh. "I suspect you are right, which is absurd. Despite what mortals say about Thranduil, there are things he loves more than the gold in his coffers, and you are one of them. Yet he would let me kill you rather than compromise the safety of his people. And you are proud of this folly!" He reached over to pat Legolas companionably on the shoulder. "But that does not matter, because I do not plan to negotiate with him. I will break him, and he will either give in to grief or sail into the West. I must confess I hope he will give in to grief. I will need your cloak now."

Bregolien deftly undid the clasp holding Legolas' cloak and pulled it off.

"Do you have any last words for your father, Elfling?"

* * *

I think I will just go and hide under the bed before angry readers come after me for putting Legolas through this.

Please review! ;-)


	15. A Chilling Message

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. Unless I succeed in my nefarious plan to kidnap an Elf. *evil grin*

Thanks to Jaidiene Kyyur, mikinyet, Escape my reality, momiji'sunusedhalo, MDarKspIrIt, Silivren Tinu, XoLikeWoahxO, awaylaughingonafastcamel, kat75643, LaylanKirrinn, yenneffer, Cushion and Ohtar Vicky for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 15: A Chilling Message**

"Do you have any last words for your father, Elfling?"

Legolas glared at Bregolien, refusing to respond. The other Elf watched him for a moment, looking torn between amusement and contempt, before he finally shrugged.

"Please yourself. I shall just have to think of my own message for him, then." He paused, looking around the clearing, his eyes brightening when he spotted something on the ground out of Legolas' sight. "I believe that is just the thing." He crossed the clearing in two strides, picked up what he had seen, and held it up.

Legolas shivered. It was his bow.

"Your father is _certain_ to recognize this," Bregolien said, his eyes glinting with malice. With one swift movement, he snapped the bow neatly in half. Legolas cried out before he could stop himself, making his companion turn to him with a smile. "Do not worry, Legolas. You will have no use for bows where you are going. You will have no use for anything."

* * *

Lindariel grimaced and dropped from the tree. She, Eredhion and Voronwë had decided to tell the horses to return to the palace and continue on foot, since that would give them a better chance of finding Legolas and Bregolien without being spotted.

They had been searching for hours, but they had found nothing, not even a snapped twig or a torn leaf to indicate that somebody had passed. Without the help of the trees, locating two Elves in the vast expanse of Greenwood was proving practically impossible. She had not dared to send word to Thranduil for more warriors: the more Elves trekking the forest searching for Legolas, the likelier it was that Bregolien would see one of them. She did not want to think about what consequences that could have for her son.

"My queen?" Eredhion had leapt from his tree as well. "What shall we do?"

Lindariel opened her mouth to tell him to keep searching, but she found herself unable to speak. The thought of what might happen if they did not succeed suddenly weighed on her.

"My queen," Voronwë said from behind her, "you must have faith. We will find Legolas. We will see him safe."

"It may already be too late for that," Lindariel whispered, her throat tight.

"It is not too late, my queen," Eredhion insisted. "You must have courage, for Legolas. Lord Elrond's warriors may have followed your trail, but they have little knowledge of this forest. If Legolas is to be saved, we have to do it. You must be strong. We will find him. I promise you, we will not let him die. Not here, not like this."

Lindariel bit her lip and nodded.

* * *

"We are nearing the forest," Glorfindel said, sounding puzzled. "If Legolas was taken, and if, as the trees believe, he was taken into Greenwood, we should have some word from the trees. I do not understand this."

"Perhaps they took a different road, my lord," one of the other Elves suggested.

"That seems unlikely. The trees were quite certain." Glorfindel drew rein, stroking his horse with one hand while he looked around, trying to peer through the increasingly dense woods. "They must have passed this way – and yet the trees are silent. I cannot believe that they would see harm come to Legolas without trying to help him." He turned to Elladan and Elrohir. "Can either of you speak to the trees? You have a better chance of getting an answer from them than any of us."

The twins exchanged a glance. By common consent, Elrohir moved to the nearest tree and laid his hands on it. At once he could sense distress and confusion.

_What is wrong?_ he asked. There was no response. He frowned and tried again, concentrating with all his being. _Please, tell me. What troubles you?_

_Ill deeds_, the tree said at last. _Elven blood has been spilt in the forest._

_Elven blood?_ Elrohir demanded in horror. _What do you mean? Whose blood? Please tell me it was Bregolien's blood._

_No… the other… the Elfling._

_Legolas? _Elrohir murmured, his heart sinking; it was not until he heard a soft gasp from Glorfindel that he realized he had spoken aloud. _Is he… alive?_

_I do not know. None of us knows._

_Where is he?_

_We… we cannot tell you. He… he has ordered us to silence. If we disobey him, he will know, and the Elfling will suffer for it._

_No, please, you _must_ tell me,_ Elrohir begged. _We want to help him. _At a signal from Glorfindel, he added, _Where is the queen? Did she reach the palace safely?_

_She would not return to the palace. But she is… far… from where the Elfling is being held. She is in no danger yet._

_Where is he? You cannot think you are helping him by keeping anyone who might rescue him away! We will be careful – we will be swift. You must tell me. Legolas himself would want you to tell me, not to give in to threats from a murderous traitor!_

The tree hesitated.

_They passed this way._

_Where did they go? _When there was no response, Elrohir urged gently, _Please. I give you my word, we will do all in our power to prevent Bregolien from harming Legolas further._

_North_, the tree said reluctantly. _Go north._

Elrohir thought of the endless leagues of thick forest to the north of them – endless leagues that Bregolien knew far better than any of them did.

_Where in the north?_ he asked, trying not to sound impatient.

_North. I can tell you no more – I have said too much already. You must be stealthy._

Neither pleas nor threats could make the tree reveal any more. Elrohir turned away from it, shoulders sagging in frustration, and repeated the exchange to Glorfindel. The Balrog-slayer's dark scowl would have terrified him if he had not felt every bit as furious as Glorfindel looked.

* * *

Legolas knew vaguely that it was night again.

Bregolien was not even bothering to keep him tied up any longer: he could barely even muster the strength to move his head now, leave alone plan an escape. He sat slumped against a tree trunk, watching with half-open eyes as Bregolien and one of the Men set about lighting a fire. The other Man had not yet returned from his errand: he had been sent to deliver a package to the Elven-king.

Legolas shivered, and then grimaced at the shooting pain that went through his ribs when he did. He could not imagine how his father would react to Bregolien's message.

As though divining his thought, Bregolien barked, "Where is he?" to one of the trees. Legolas could not think clearly enough to make out the tree's response; whatever it was, it seemed to infuriate the Elf. He snarled something unintelligible and came to stand in front of Legolas.

"You are living on borrowed time, Elfling," he growled. "Apparently there are several Elves searching the forest for you. I would have killed you before now, but… you may be useful to me yet." He grasped Legolas' chin and tilted his head up to look him in the eye. "Make no mistake: this is the last time you will see these stars. Enjoy the sight." The thought appeared to cheer him. He grinned as he added, "And any moment now, your father is opening my… gift."

Reflecting idly that he would have liked to have seen his parents one last time, Legolas let himself sink into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

When the knock sounded on his study door, Thranduil had a moment of wild hope that it was news of Legolas or Lindariel, or preferably both. He threw himself out of his chair and hastened to answer it. It was indeed Thorontur who stood outside, but one look at his expression told the Elven-king that there had been no tidings.

"This arrived for you," Thorontur said, hold up a long cloth-wrapped bundle. "Something commissioned from one of the craftsmen in the Mannish villages to the east, the guard said."

Thranduil was startled. He could not remember having commissioned anything.

"Who brought it?"

"One of the villagers – apparently he would not stay. He said he had already been paid. Many of them are uncomfortable about having to spend the night under an Elven roof."

Thranduil looked at the bundle. It certainly looked like something from one of the village craftsmen. It was wrapped in the same type of cloth that they used. Perhaps Lindariel had ordered something made. Hefting the bundle in his hands, he nodded his thanks and dropped it on a table unopened.

"Have there been any other developments?"

"Something seems to be upsetting the trees, but they refuse to speak of it. It cannot be Bregolien – I do not believe anything could induce them to help him, not after all they know of him. It disturbs me, though." He studied his friend for a moment. "Do you want to go for a walk? Fresh air will do you good."

* * *

Glorfindel looked around. The warriors were tense. He had called a halt as much because they needed to calm themselves down as for the sake of the horses. Most of his worry was for Elladan and Elrohir.

Coming to a decision, he strode briskly to where the two young Elves sat slightly apart from the others.

"Draw."

They stared at him.

"Draw," Glorfindel repeated. "Your swords."

"_Now?_"

"Yes. Now. This is as good a time to perfect your swordsmanship as any. A better time, I should say, since you may be called upon to _use_ that swordsmanship soon. Draw."

They got to their feet uncertainly, first Elladan and then Elrohir, unsheathing their blades and turning to face him.

* * *

Thranduil, as he strolled back through the corridor to the study, had to admit that Thorontur had been right. The walk _had_ done him good. He had expected that his mood would be worsened by the sight of the woods that his wife and son loved so much, but he had been heartened instead, as though walking among the trees brought them closer.

He found himself smiling for the first time in days as he pushed the door open. He could almost believe his friends' assurances that all would be well.

As he entered the room, his eyes fell on the unopened bundle. An hour ago, he had not even wanted to know what was in it. Now, he was almost eager to open it. If it _was_ something Lindariel had commissioned, it would be nice to surprise her with it.

And he might take Legolas riding, he reflected, carrying the package to his desk. When Legolas had been younger they had gone riding together very often, but after he had begun his warrior training there had been far less time. It had been months since Thranduil had been able to spend much time with his son. He resolved to remedy that as soon as Legolas returned.

His smile widening, he sat down and cut through the knots holding the bundle closed.

The cloth fell open.

For a moment Thranduil did not realize what he was seeing. When he did, a strangled cry burst from his throat even as his fingers closed convulsively on a ragged, bloodstained Elven cloak.

As his shaking hands pulled at it, something else rolled out of the centre. All remaining hope shattered: the cloak might have been dropped in haste, but not the bow.

He did not hear the hurried footsteps outside or the door bursting open. His first indication that he was not alone was when a hand gripped his shoulder firmly. He felt himself shaken. There were voices, but it was a few minutes before he recognized Thorontur and Arbellason.

"What is it? We heard you – what happened?"

"Legolas," Thranduil said hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes away from the cloak and the broken bow. "Legolas…"

Only then did his friends' gaze turn to what was on his desk. There was a moment's stunned silence. Then the hand on his shoulder tightened. Thranduil shook his head, willing the sight before his eyes to vanish, willing it to be _anything_ other than proof of terrible harm to his son.

He was drawn into a close hug, and it was only then that he realized that he was shaking with sobs.

"He may only have been injured, not slain," Arbellason said. "We may yet be able to save him, _mellon nîn_. You must not give in to despair. That is what Bregolien wants. You cannot lose hope. You must be strong, or you will not be able to help Legolas and Lindariel."

"It may already be too late."

"He wants you to believe that. You must not give him that satisfaction. You must have hope."

"If Legolas is dead –"

"Listen to me!" Thorontur snapped. Thranduil felt his shoulders shaken roughly. "Do you truly believe that Legolas is dead?"

He paused, thinking, and then slowly shook his head.

"No… No. I think I would have sensed it if… if he had… died."

"Then he is alive. Injured, certainly, perhaps gravely injured. But he is _alive_. We can save him."

Thranduil said nothing, but his despair was rapidly giving way to anger. Bregolien's earlier actions had been unpardonable, but _this_…

Without speaking, he reached for the cloak and shook it out. It was torn in many places, and the original colour was indiscernible through the dirt and blood, but Legolas had worn it. He felt his temper mounting. Bregolien would suffer for harming Thranduil's son.

He got to his feet so abruptly that Thorontur and Arbellason both started up in surprise.

"The trees must know something of this," he growled. "They must have known this was happening, and they said _nothing_."

"There must be a reason, Thranduil!" Arbellason said hastily, as though worried that the Elven-king would start hacking down trees one by one until they told him where his son was being held. "The trees are all fond of Legolas. They would not do anything to harm him."

"If there is a reason, I am going to know it," Thranduil snapped, striding out of the room. "And then I am going to deal with Bregolien."

Arbellason and Thorontur ran out after him.

* * *

*dives back into hiding-place*

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	16. Seeking

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

This has been the hardest chapter to write so far – although I suspect that the next one is going to prove much harder.

Thanks to mikinyet, LaylanKirrinn (sorry I have to use your old username - ff is deleting the new one for some reason), Ohtar Vicky, Silivren Tinu, firehottie, Jaidiene Kyyur, awaylaughingonafastcamel, XoLikeWoahxO, Escape my reality, Ailiel Raith of Ithilien, Cushion, yenneffer, MDarKspIrIt, momiji'sunusedhalo and anime-catdragon for reviewing.

* * *

**CHAPTER 16: Seeking**

_WHERE IS HE?_

The oak quivered.

_Where is who?_

_This is not the time for foolish games! I want to know where my son is. I want to know NOW. And I do not want to hear any excuses! Where is he?_

_I do not know!_

_Do not be absurd! You must know._

_No – no! _The tree exclaimed, as Thranduil's fury mounted. _I do not. He is being held in the forest: that much I do know. I do not know precisely where. None of us knows precisely where, except those who are close enough to sense his presence. None will say! He will harm the Elfling._

_He had done so already, _Thranduil growled. _Now tell me where he is and –_

He broke off as an Elf ran into the courtyard, appearing both excited and apprehensive. Thorontur and Arbellason got hastily out of the way, giving Thranduil a clear look at the newcomer.

He bowed perfunctorily, glancing up at once to say, "My king, we have caught a Man – one of the patrols saw him riding away from the palace. The patrol captain thought he seemed to be trying to avoid detection, and he hoped that the Man might know something about the Queen and Legolas."

"Does he?"

"He has refused to answer any of our questions, but the palace guards have seen him and they say he was here earlier – with a package for you."

Thranduil's hand went to his sword in an instant.

"Take me to him."

* * *

"Things are going ill for you, Legolas," Bregolien said with a mock-sigh. "Your day is about to worsen."

Legolas opened his eyes and glared at Bregolien.

"I doubt it can get any worse than this."

The other Elf laughed.

"Oh, it can," he assured Legolas. "You will soon find out how. I might have been able to hold out longer if that fool I sent to your father had returned on time, Morgoth take him! But he is not here yet – lost in the forest, no doubt – and those who are searching for you draw near." When Legolas smiled slightly at that news, he added, "Not your father's warriors, Elfling. Your mother and two of your friends."

"_What?_" Legolas gasped. "No! She cannot be here!"

"I suppose you told her to go straight to the palace and stay there? How very heroic. Your father will be proud. You, however, will not live to see that."

He hauled Legolas to his feet and threw him, hard, into the trunk of a nearby oak. Legolas could sense the tree try to soften the blow, but there was very little it could do. Suppressing a cry of pain, he blinked and stared at Bregolien through the haze descending over his vision.

"We have a few minutes," Bregolien said, baring his teeth in a grin that did not reach his eyes. "Stand."

Even if Legolas had been inclined to obey Bregolien, he knew there was no way his legs would support him. Bregolien certainly knew that as well, but that did not stop him from thrusting Legolas' knives into his hands and repeating, his voice a threatening growl, "Stand, Elfling. I do not have time to waste."

Not quite believing what was happening, Legolas pushed himself up to his feet. He just managed, by leaning against the tree, to stay standing.

_Be careful_, the tree said. _He only wants to play with you. This will not be a fair fight._

Legolas nearly laughed.

_I do not think he will be forced to resort to unfair means to best me now._

Without warning, there was a flash of steel and Bregolien's sword came down to meet him. Legolas did not even try to parry. He let himself fall to his knees, so that the sword cut an arc through the air above his head. Bregolien chuckled, taking a step back.

* * *

"We are no closer!" Elrohir snapped. "And now we are lost!"

"We are not lost," Elladan said reassuringly. "The trees will help us find our way."

"Find our way _where_? They will not help us find Legolas. What good will it do if they simply direct us to the palace or to –" Elrohir broke off and shook his head. "I do not know what we can do."

He reached out to a nearby tree, although he did not expect to achieve anything by it.

_Where do we go from here?_

_He will die,_ the tree said in despair. _There is no hope now._

Elrohir drew in a sharp breath, even as Elladan leaned over his shoulder and scowled at the tree.

_What do you mean? What is happening? _the older twin demanded. _Do you tell me that all the while you have been keeping Legolas' location from us claiming to be protecting him by doing so, you have actually been aiding –_

_No! _the tree retorted angrily. _We have not been aiding that vile Elf. We thought that if we kept you away, he might threaten the Elfling, but he would let him go eventually. It appears that we were wrong. _The anger vanished from its tone, replaced by sorrow. _He means to kill the Elfling anyway. Already he has –_

_Wait! _Elladan cut in. Knowing what Bregolien had already done would not help them or Legolas. _Where are they?_

_There is no way you will get to them in time._

_Let us worry about that. Where are they?_

* * *

"Where are they?"

The man had seen Elven fury before, and often, from Bregolien. That had scared him, and had encouraged him to swift obedience. It had not prepared him for the sight of the Elf who stood before him now, glaring at him as though he would as soon kill him as look at him.

The Elf's resemblance to their captive was strong enough for the man to identify him as the Elven-king of Greenwood.

The man said nothing, trying to force himself not to look at the sword that hung from Thranduil's belt, or at the Elves standing on either side of him, both of whom looked only marginally less murderous than their king.

"I do not have endless patience," Thranduil said coldly. "My son has suffered, and you are at least partially responsible for that. I would kill you now without the slightest regret, but I have hope that you may lead us to him. If you do, I will consider sparing your life."

"Your son is dead by now," the man said, amazed at his own daring.

The Elven-king's eyes narrowed.

"You had best pray that that is not the case. If he is dead, then the fate that is assuredly going to meet Bregolien will meet you as well. I will do all I can to make it particularly unpleasant." The hard glitter in the Elf's eyes was unnerving. "Take us to him now."

"It will do no good," the man said, and Thranduil's hand went to his sword again. "Even if Lord Bregolien has not killed your son yet, he will do it as soon as he senses you approaching. You cannot hope to reach him in time."

Thranduil tried not to react, although he could not prevent himself from clenching his fist on his sword hilt. Arbellason and Thorontur moved imperceptibly closer to him, offering him the reassurance of their presence. When the Elven-king finally spoke, his voice was shaking: he could not have said if it was with anger or fear.

"How long will it take us to get to them?"

"I cannot take you to them," the man said. "Lord Bregolien will kill me if I betray him! He has no mercy for those who fail him."

"Have you considered what I may do to you if you do not help us?"

Despite the dangerous gleam in the Elven-king's eyes, the man shook his head. Terrifying though Thranduil was, he had been told that the Elf was fair-minded and just, if unyielding. Bregolien was unyielding as well, and he was neither fair-minded nor just.

"It cannot be as bad as what he will do to me if I do."

Thranduil drew his sword fully. It caught the light of the setting sun, shining as though ablaze. Despite himself, the man backed away.

"Normally, I would agree with you," the Elven-king said with a calm smile that was somehow more frightening than his temper would have been. "Normally, I would understand your dilemma. What you may or may not know is that I do not believe in reason, or justice, or, for that matter, mercy, when Legolas is threatened. One thing I promise you. If you do not lead us to him _now_, the fate you will suffer will be far worse than anything Bregolien could devise."

* * *

Elrohir drew a shaking breath, turning away from the tree.

"What now?"

"We go on," Elladan said, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. "We go on as quickly as we can. The trees will help us now."

"What if we are too late? If he is already –"

"He will be fine."

"And I promised him we would be with him if he needed us," Elrohir said, ignoring Elladan completely. "If –"

Elrohir cut himself off as he felt another arm on his shoulder. Glorfindel was standing behind him. The Balrog-slayer looked sympathetic.

"I still believe we will be in time to save Legolas," he said. "But even if it comes to the worst, even if he is dead before we can help him, you must remember that it is not the end of everything. He is an Elf. If the two of you choose to accompany your father to the Blessed Realm – and you have no reason to do otherwise – you will see him again."

"That will not be for centuries," Elrohir protested.

"I expect it will take even longer than that, but time is the one thing we do not lack." Glorfindel gave them a reassuring smile. "In any case, it is a little premature to start worrying about that. Legolas is alive now. If we are swift, we will be able to save him."

* * *

"We are getting closer," Lindariel said. "I can sense it."

She laid her hand on an overhanging branch, and jerked back in shock as she sensed the horror and grief coming from the tree. And not just _that_ tree, she realized as she stepped towards it. _All _the trees. Something had happened to upset them.

She turned to Eredhion and Voronwë.

"Hurry!"

* * *

The knives fell from Legolas' hands as the last of his strength gave out. He did not try to retrieve them. They had done no good in any case. He would not have lasted this long if Bregolien had not been toying with him.

"This is the end, then, Legolas." He heard the voice as though from a great distance, and felt cold steel at his throat. "It seems that one way or another I have managed to fulfill your mother's wish. You have suffered before this end. Perhaps you have even wanted to die, although you have managed not to say so. Your father will be proud of you when he hears."

Legolas flinched. He had managed not to think of his parents all this while, especially not of his father, whom he had not seen for months and now would probably never see again. He hoped Thranduil would not be too upset.

"Stand up."

Legolas tried, but he could not push himself up from his knees. Bregolien smirked.

"Stand, Legolas. Is this how your father would want you to die? Kneeling before me? An Elven-prince should die on his feet. Get up."

Legolas did not bother to try again. Bregolien dropped into a crouch to look him in the eye.

"I will be seeing him soon, I expect, Elfling. Do you have a message for him?"

"Tell him I am sorry."

The words were out before Legolas could stop them. He shivered and turned away, trying not to think of what the Elven-king would do.

"I will tell him, Elfling," Bregolien said, sounding almost reassuring. "I will tell him you fought to the end. And now it _is_ the end, Legolas." Legolas, bracing himself for the bite of steel, looked at Bregolien in surprise when it was taken away. "Not by the sword," the other Elf said. "There is one use I have for you yet, but for that you have to die slowly." A shadow moved behind Bregolien. A moment later, Legolas felt someone – the Man, probably – seize his head and force open his mouth. He knew what was coming, but he was powerless to prevent it. His mind dimly registered the bittersweet taste as Bregolien poured something into his mouth and forced him to swallow.

"It will take some time to act," Bregolien said. "You have an hour, perhaps. Enjoy the sight of the trees, Legolas. When you next wake, you will be in Námo's halls." He turned to look at someone behind him. "Take him. You know what to do. There is not much time, but the _elleth_ is not far. I do not think you will have a problem."

As the world dissolved into darkness, Legolas thought he saw something emerge from the trees. He knew it was evil: he could sense the foulness of its presence. Then he knew nothing.

* * *

*has not even bothered to emerge from under bed this time*

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	17. The Dark of Night

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to the Professor.

Thanks to Thranduils Heart And Soul, mikinyet, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Cushion, momiji'sunusedhalo, Jaidiene Kyyur, firehottie, Silivren Tinu, Escape my reality, Ohtar Vicky, Lauren Hedgehog, anime-catdragon and french-charlotte for reviewing the last chapter.

**Warning: **Major angst and some violence in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Dark of Night**

Legolas woke to find himself slung over a horse's back. The horse was being led by a bulky, armoured figure – clearly not Bregolien. He turned his head slightly, and saw more of the figures following. In the darkness he could make out no more than shadows. The trees seemed to be pressing closer together in fear.

He tried to move, and discovered, unsurprisingly, that he had barely enough strength to raise his arms. He could not push himself off the horse – and even if he managed it, he would not get far.

_They are near._

Legolas could not tell which of the trees had spoken; he did not dare look up, in case the creatures around him noticed.

_Do not worry,_ the tree added. _The Orcs cannot hear us._

_Orcs?_ Legolas demanded in horror, turning to peer at the ones behind. _These are orcs? Orcs in Eryn Galen? How?_

_The other one brought them._

_Bregolien?_

_Yes. He likes them no more than you do – he plans to dispose of them once they have helped him carry out his plans. He could not gather enough Men to him – Men do not trust him, except those who are desperate enough to have no choice. He had to supplement their numbers. Orcs have little intelligence. It was easy for him to enlist their aid._

_But… What does he plan? Who is coming?_

_Your mother and two of your friends._

_No,_ Legolas pleaded. _Lead them away. All they can do against such numbers will be to get themselves killed. You cannot let them come here._

_We cannot –_

The tree broke off abruptly as the orc leading the horse stopped. It lifted Legolas down, dragged him to a nearby tree, and threw him at it. Legolas managed to stay on his feet for a few seconds, but then his legs buckled. The orc stood looking down at him with its teeth bared in a pleased grimace. Then it vanished, and its fellows with it, leaving him alone in the glade.

As soon as they had gone, he tried to get to his feet again. It did no good; he could not do more than push himself up on his elbows. Hopelessly, he reached out to the tree behind him.

_Did you send her away?_

There was a brief pause before the tree answered.

_Do not worry, Elfling. You will worsen your condition if you do. She has gone._

Legolas sank back with a sigh. He felt the first droplets of water on his face as the rain that had been threatening finally came. Lightning flashed, casting the glade into unnatural brightness. He relaxed against the tree, sensing its joy at the rain diminished by its sorrow for him.

He shut his eyes.

He was not sure how much time passed before he heard a sound and opened them again. He thought he could see somebody, but he could not quite tell. The lightning flashes did not last long enough to reveal more than shadows. He hoped they were friends, although considering how terrible his luck had been they were probably more of Bregolien's confederates.

He managed to push himself up into a sitting position, leaning on the trunk of a tree, before he felt a hand on his arm.

"Do not try it. You are not strong enough."

Legolas blinked.

"Eredhion?"

His voice came out in a hoarse croak, and his friend patted his shoulder with a smile that Legolas could make out now that he was nearer.

"Be quiet," Eredhion said softly. "Save your strength. You will need it. We still have to get you back to the healers." He wrapped an arm around Legolas' shoulders. "You are burning with fever, _mellon nîn_. Poison?"

Legolas started to shake his head, and then remembered what Bregolien had made him drink before giving him to the orcs.

The _orcs_!

"You must go!" he burst out, looking up at Eredhion. "Is _Nana_ here? There are orcs – and, for all I know, more men. Bregolien would not have gone far. You must –"

"_You_ must stop talking," Eredhion told him firmly. "I am not going to have you wasting all our effort by dying on my hands now. Voronwë and I split up to search for you. He will be here soon." He released Legolas and began rummaging in his pack. "I cannot give you anything for the pain until I know what _he_ made you drink, but it should do no harm to bind the worst of – Legolas?" Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder again. "Legolas, can you hear me? _Legolas! _Can you… my lady, I think he is…"

Eredhion's voice faded away, along with the glade, the trees, and everything else.

* * *

Thranduil rode in silence, trying to ignore the dire visions in his head. He felt as though all his worst nightmares were coming true at the same time. The Man was riding between two guards, both looking as though they were longing for him to give them an excuse to shoot him.

Just behind Thranduil were Thorontur and Arbellason. Both wore grimly determined expressions. Behind them followed a handful of Greenwood's finest warriors.

Thranduil bit his lip, unable to keep from worrying. They had a long ride ahead of them, and no certainty of success at the end of it. Legolas might well be dead before they got to him. He hoped that Lindariel, at least, was safe, although he doubted it.

Thranduil's fingers were clenched tightly around his reins. He did not know what he would do if he lost his wife and son.

* * *

Legolas opened his eyes again, wondering if Eredhion's presence had been a dream. For a minute nothing stirred around him, and he thought it _had_ been a dream. Then a gentle hand was on his forehead, brushing stray strands of hair of his face.

"_Ion nîn._"

Legolas knew that voice. He struggled to see, and his vision cleared enough to let him make out the face above him in one of the flashes of lightning. Deep blue eyes looked down at him with mingled affection and anxiety.

"_Naneth?_" At any other time he would have been happy to see her. "You should leave… I thought you had gone…"

"Do not talk, _tithen pen_. You are hurt."

He tried to sit up, expecting her to push him back down. Instead she helped him sit, supporting him when his head began to spin.

"Please go," he managed to get out.

"Hush," Lindariel said gently.

"They will come after me," Legolas whispered desperately, wishing he were strong enough to force her onto a horse and away. "They will find you. You _must_ go. Please – you cannot do anything for me now –"

"Hush, _ion nîn_," Lindariel repeated; though her voice was still gentle, Legolas saw a sparkle of anger in her eyes. "You must rest." She kissed his forehead lightly. "We will be home soon. Thranduil must be so worried… You will be lucky if he ever allows you to leave his sight again, after this."

"_Nana –_"

Legolas was cut off as the world exploded in noise and pain. Someone wrenched him from his mother's arms. He heard her scream his name as he scrambled to keep his feet, this time succeeding.

"No, please – _please_! He can take no more of this. Have you not done enough? Do not hurt him."

"It is too late for that, my queen," Bregolien's cold voice responded.

Legolas knew, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that this was what the other Elf had intended all along. As soon as he had realized that Lindariel had not returned to the palace, but was searching for him with just two novice warriors to help her, he must have decided to use Legolas as bait to draw her in. He should have made Eredhion leave at once instead of talking.

He heard another scream, this one wordless and piercing.

"_Nana!_"

Silence. Looking around wildly, willing his blurring vision to stay clear, Legolas fumbled for his bow before remembering that it had been taken from him.

"Here."

He heard another voice as a hand grasped his elbow to steady him and a knife was slipped into his hands. There was a soft grunt from his mother. Legolas twisted around, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, and found himself looking at Bregolien.

"Just a few hours ago you lost to me, Legolas, and now you want to fight _again_? Perhaps I will spare your mother's life if you manage to put up a more respectable showing this time."

"Legolas, _no_!" Lindariel shouted. "Do not do it, _penneth_! You are not strong enough to fight."

She broke off with a gasp. Bregolien laughed.

"And so the little _ellon_ found out about the world," he mocked. "Did you think of the unspeakable harm you could cause to those close to you, Legolas?"

"Legolas, do not listen to him!"

Bregolien turned away with a wordless snarl. A moment later, there was a shriek from Lindariel.

"My lady!"

"Voronwë!" Legolas took a step back, shaking his head to clear it. "Eredhion?" There was no response from either of them. He wished the storm would stop: the lightning made it impossible to see. "What –"

He felt the sudden bite of steel and a burning pain across his chest.

"Now it is your turn, _ernil nîn_," Bregolien growled. "Did you hear your mother scream, _tithen_ Legolas?" There was something cold and sharp pressing against his stomach. "You will scream as well."

Legolas took another step back, looking around for his mother.

"_Nana!_"

"Legolas…" She spoke from somewhere to his left. "Legolas, _penneth_, I am here. You must be strong. We will get out of this."

"Get out of this, my lady? I promise you, you will not get out of this."

Legolas backed away another step, and came up against something hard and unyielding. A pair of heavy hands came down on his shoulders and pushed him forward.

Bregolien suddenly seized his arm and began to drag him across the glade. Legolas saw Eredhion and Voronwë each held by a pair of orcs, and then he was face-to-face with his mother. Even in the darkness he could tell that her clothes were bloodstained.

"No!" he gasped, turning to Bregolien. "No, please! You had no grudge against her! Do what you want to me, but let her go!"

"It is too late for that, Your Highness."

He released Legolas, taking Lindariel's wrist and pulling her away from the orcs holding her. Legolas started forward, but found his path barred by several of the creatures. He tried to cut his way through them, but with his strength failing he had no chance.

"Watch, Legolas!" Bregolien called gleefully. Through the tangle of orcs before him, Legolas caught a glimpse of Bregolien holding his mother at arm's-length. "Watch, and know that it is your fault."

"_Nana!_"

Bregolien signalled to the orcs, who parted, clearing a path before him. He staggered forward. As he did, he heard a muffled cry behind him.

"Voronwë?"

Then something struck the back of his head and he fell to his knees.

"Legolas!" Lindariel cried. "No, please, _no!_"

"Stop, you fools!" Bregolien snarled. "I want him alive. I want him to see this."

Legolas could not get to his feet again: the last of his strength had given out. He watched, helpless, on his knees, fingers curled uselessly around the hilt of his knife.

Drawing in a deep breath, he raised his arm and flung the knife. Unfortunately, Bregolien saw it coming. He did not have time to sidestep it entirely, but he did manage to move enough that it struck only his shoulder.

Grimacing, Bregolien pulled the knife out of his shoulder and threw it carelessly away.

"Was that your last hope, Legolas?"

"_Please…_" Legolas whispered. "Let her go. She has done you no harm."

Bregolien only laughed, giving Lindariel a light shake. She did not bother to look at him.

"Legolas… Legolas, _penneth_, flee. There is nothing you can do."

"_No!_" Legolas said fiercely, trying to push himself to his feet. "_Nana…_"

"What is wrong, little Legolas?" Bregolien asked, chuckling as he kicked the knife just close enough to Legolas to be tantalizingly out of his reach. "Is the Elfling discovering just how terrible the world can be?"

"_Nana_," Legolas whispered. Then, "Bregolien… _please_…"

He was pulled to his feet by hands that definitely did not belong to orcs. Turning, Legolas saw the man who had stayed with Bregolien and another whom he did not recognize.

"Watch, Elfling."

A blade gleamed in a sudden flash of lightning. Legolas, despite himself, shut his eyes, but he could not shut out the scream that followed.

"_Nana!_"

"Legolas…" Lindariel murmured, her voice already fading.

"_Nana…_ No, please, don't do this! Let her go!" He tried to pull himself free of the men, but they had him held too tightly. "Please," he begged. "Kill me if you must – I will not stop you – but let her go. She had no part in any of this!"

"I will kill you in any case, my little warrior. But first you will see your mother die."

"Legolas," Lindariel repeated, her voice even weaker now. "Legolas, _penneth_, please, this is not your fault."

"_Nana!_" Legolas fought to keep his voice steady. "Hold on. Please, hold on. You are an Elf, Bregolien – one of my father's warriors! How can you do this?"

"Your _father's_ warriors," Bregolien spat. "Your father is a fool!"

Legolas ignored him.

"_Nana?_"

"Legolas… _Namárië…_"

"No, _please_!"

He saw Bregolien release her, saw her fall limply to the ground. Then Bregolien was before him, but Legolas found that he no longer cared what was done to him.

Bregolien himself was so intent on his prisoner that he had not noticed that the orcs holding Eredhion and Voronwë, watching eagerly, had slackened their grip on their captives.

* * *

Thranduil's hands went suddenly limp. His horse, sensing slack reins, stopped, turning to look at him in consternation.

"Thranduil?" Arbellason and Thorontur rode up on either side of him. "What is it?"

"Lindariel," he whispered, raising horrified eyes to the path before them. "She is… he has…"

He broke off, feeling tears fill his eyes. Where he had always sensed his wife's presence was only an aching emptiness. He shut his eyes and bowed his head.

"Legolas," Thorontur said suddenly. Thranduil looked up at him in shock. "There will be time to grieve, _mellon nîn_," his friend said gently, squeezing his hand. "For now, you must be strong. Legolas is still in danger. We have to help him. The warriors look to _you_ for courage." When Thranduil only continued to stare at him, he said forcefully, "Your _son_, Thranduil. Legolas."

"Legolas," Thranduil repeated, a hard light coming into his eyes. "Yes… We have to help Legolas. I will not let him have Legolas as well."

He heeled his horse to a brisk trot.

* * *

An exchanged glance was all Eredhion and Voronwë needed to come to an agreement. They pulled free of the orcs, snatching their knives up from the ground where they had fallen, and launched into an attack. Their anger and desperation gave them strength they had not had before.

Before they could get to Legolas, Bregolien saw them coming. He pulled the Elf-prince round in front of him as a shield, sword held at his captive's throat. There was a dazed, deadened expression in Legolas' eyes that scared his friends. They made no movement. The orcs closed around them again, grinning.

"Let him _go_," Voronwë snapped. "Let him go, and you may die easily."

"The two of you will kill me?" Bregolien enquired.

Before either of them could say anything, a man burst into the glade.

* * *

Bregolien would gladly have slaughtered the man for interrupting his moment of triumph, although he had given instructions that he was to be informed at once if anybody was approaching.

With a sigh, he sheathed his sword, twisting Legolas' arm behind his back to hold him still.

"What is it?"

"Warriors, my lord – from the east and the south. Elves. There are far too many for us to hold. We will be massacred if we wait here."

Bregolien paused, thinking. He had Legolas, and while he had Legolas nobody would dare attack him. But he did not expect the young Elf to last much longer, with the blood loss from his injuries, the poison in his body, and the sight of his mother's murder fresh in his mind. When Legolas died, his purpose would be achieved, whether he waited to see it achieved or not.

He came to a decision.

"I always have my vengeance, Legolas," he murmured. "Remember that."

He forced Legolas to his knees, smiling at the soft gasp of pain that drew. Then, straightening, he looked around at the orcs and men.

"Go."

* * *

Voronwë did not waste time watching to see where Bregolien went. He would be caught. Now that he could not threaten the trees, he had no hope of evading Thranduil's warriors.

In the silence after the orcs had gone, he hurried to Legolas. The Elf-prince made no protest as Voronwë half-dragged, half-carried him to a nearby elm tree and began undoing his tunic to check his injuries. The lack of reaction worried Voronwë more than anything. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Eredhion trying fruitlessly to revive the queen. He shifted slightly so that he was blocking her still form from Legolas' sight.

"I cannot do anything about the poison," he said, his voice shaking. "But I will stitch your wounds. That should hold you until we can get you to the healers. Legolas, look at me." Blue eyes, devoid of their usual spark, were raised to his. "You will be all right, I promise."

Eredhion dropped to his knees on Legolas' other side, holding out the pack Voronwë had dropped when Bregolien had attacked. Voronwë looked at him. The slightest shake of Eredhion's head indicated that he had been unsuccessful.

"Is it safe to move him?" Eredhion asked.

"I do not think so," Voronwë responded, rummaging in his pack for his healing supplies. "Not yet. But he needs to see a healer soon."

Eredhion nodded and got to his feet.

"If the King has sent out warriors, he has probably sent healers as well. I will find someone."

He slipped away into the trees, leaving Voronwë to his task.

* * *

*sob* *sniffle*

*finds new hiding place behind curtain*

*muffled voice from behind curtain* I promise it will all be on a more hopeful note before I get to the end.

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review.


	18. Found

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thanks to kat75643, anime-catdragon, Escape my reality, mikinyet, Ohtar Vicky, momiji'sunusedhalo, XoLikeWoahxO, Thranduils Heart And Soul, MDarKspIrIt, french-charlotte, Ailiel Raith of Ithilien, Silivren Tinu, Muse10 and Cushion for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 18: Found**

Voronwë shifted uncomfortably. It had been an hour since Eredhion had gone, and there was no sign of his return. He had piled stones around Lindariel's body in a makeshift cairn that would hold until it could be taken for proper burial. It had been a heartbreaking task, but it had taken his mind off his surroundings. Specifically, it had taken his mind off Legolas' deteriorating condition.

There were noises in the trees. Voronwë shivered.

Suddenly he could no longer bear the thought of lingering there, where Elven blood had been spilt, until Eredhion's return.

He glanced at Legolas, and saw half-open blue eyes watching him.

"You are tired," the Elf-prince murmured.

Despite himself, Voronwë laughed. It was a hollow, unreal sound, and it made Legolas' eyes widen in concern.

"_I_ am tired?" Voronwë demanded. "You cannot be serious, Legolas. You look as though you have had the worst of a fist-fight with a cave troll." Coming to a decision, he said, "We need to find a safer place to wait. If Bregolien returns – or a pack of wolves attacks, for that matter – I cannot defend us here." He slid one arm around Legolas' shoulders and the other under his knees. "I will try not to jolt you."

"I can walk," Legolas protested, but so half-heartedly that it only increased his friend's worry.

"I am going to pretend you did not just say something so foolish." He paused. "Do you know where we can go?"

With a small smile at his friend, and a look up at the stars to ascertain the direction, Legolas pointed unhesitatingly to his left.

"There. Caves."

* * *

_Not far now_, the tree said, and Elladan detected in its voice a certain grim satisfaction. _You will see him soon. He is trying to escape. We have been thwarting him._

_He will not escape_, the young Elf promised.

He nodded at Glorfindel, indicating the direction with a gesture. The Balrog-slayer smiled, battle-light in his eyes, and slid his sword from its sheath with a sound like the whisper of silk.

The horses went forward at a walk, their hooves not making the slightest noise on the soft grass of the forest floor.

* * *

The tightness in Thranduil's chest would not let him think, barely let him breathe. The only thing that prevented him from dropping his sword and giving up was the thought of his son still in danger. If he lost Legolas as well…

Thranduil could not finish the thought, but the memory of a bloodstained cloak and a broken bow made him urge his horse to greater speed.

No matter what happened, he would save his child.

* * *

Legolas felt himself being laid, very gently, on a hard surface. He could not sense the trees' presence as strongly here.

He tried to remember where he was, and found that his memory was a jumble of shapes and voices. He could not hold on to any of them for more than a few seconds. He felt a weight on his soul, as though something terrible had happened, but he could not imagine what it was.

"Stay with me, _ernil nîn_."

That was a voice he knew… He was too tired to identify it. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy.

"_Nana?_" he asked drowsily.

"Please, Legolas, stay with me," the voice begged. "Eredhion has gone for help."

Eredhion… Memory stirred, and Legolas shied away from it. He managed to open his eyes.

"Where is _Nana_?"

There was a pause before the voice answered – Voronwë; he could identify it now – and a quiver when the answer finally came. Memory stirred again. This time it would not be pushed aside.

"She is beyond their harm. Legolas –"

"They killed her."

"Legolas, please –"

"It is my fault," Legolas whispered, shutting his eyes again, wishing that by doing so he could shut out the horrors in his mind.

"Legolas, it is not your fault." Voronwë's hand was on his shoulder, rubbing it lightly. "Please stay with me, _mellon nîn_. Please, you must hold on. Greenwood has already lost her queen – we cannot lose you as well. You _must_ stay with me."

"I killed her…"

"You did not kill her," Voronwë said forcefully. "Bregolien did. You _know_ that. Legolas, please, hold on."

"I told the trees to find you… To send you away. He heard…"

"Legolas –"

"I should never have tried to find you."

"Do not be ridiculous," Voronwë said sharply. "And you did not try to find us, Elfling – _we_ found _you_."

"_Nana_…" Legolas murmured, drifting into darkness again.

"Legolas, no! Look at me! Legolas!" He was shaken, hard. "Legolas!" He opened his eyes. Voronwë's gaze was boring into his. "You cannot die on my hands, Legolas. Not now. Legolas, _listen_ to me! What of your father?"

"_Ada?_"

"Yes. He will need you now, more than ever. You must hold on."

* * *

"At last," Elladan whispered. His voice carried enough on the still night air to make the Elf he was watching start up with a soft exclamation and look around.

He glanced at Elrohir, who was concealed on the other side of the path. By common agreement, they stepped from the trees, drawn swords gleaming in the last of the starlight.

"Bregolien," Elrohir said softly, unable to keep his fury from his voice.

The Elf they were facing smiled, brazen even now.

"How did you dispose of the orcs? They should have warned me of your approach."

"Have you ever encountered Glorfindel in a rage?" Elladan asked lightly. "The orcs had not."

Bregolien pulled his sword from his scabbard in one quick movement.

"So long as all I must encounter is the two of you."

"Who said so?" Elrohir asked. "Look behind you."

Bregolien turned, stiffening only slightly at the sight of Glorfindel and the other Imladrin warriors on the path behind him.

"You have the advantage of numbers," he conceded. "But we will see who wins. After all, you have nothing to fight for now. Lindariel is dead, and Legolas as well, by now. What will you gain by killing me?"

Elladan felt cold horror steal over him at Bregolien's words, overtaken almost at once by boiling range.

"We will gain vengeance," he said quietly.

For the first time, Bregolien looked afraid.

* * *

Eredhion burst from the trees onto the path to see a handful of Imladrin warriors surrounding a dishevelled-looking Bregolien. The self-satisfied smile gone from his face, the Elf looked almost frightened.

Eredhion would have joined the throng, but he did not have time for vengeance. He was here for a different purpose.

"Lord Glorfindel," he called. "I need help!"

Glorfindel detached himself from the knot of Elves around Bregolien. He did not know Eredhion, but he evidently recognized him as one of Thranduil's warriors, because he hurried up to him at once.

"What is it?"

"Legolas," Eredhion gasped. "Injured – gravely injured. If anyone in your party knows anything of healing –"

"_What?_"

In less than a second, two more Elves had broken off from the group and were at Eredhion's side.

"He is _alive_?" Elladan demanded.

"Yes, or he was when I left. He has been poisoned. We do not know what it was. If you know anything that might help him –"

"We will come with you," Elrohir said quickly.

* * *

"Should we kill him, my lord?"

Glorfindel looked at Bregolien, who, even disarmed and held firmly between two warriors, managed to look defiant, although now his defiance had an edge of fear. Glorfindel was strongly tempted to run the evil Elf through on the spot: it would save trouble all around, and if anyone deserved that, Bregolien did.

He sheathed his sword.

"No. Bind him. His crimes have been committed in the Woodland Realm. We will deliver him to Thranduil's justice." He paused. "For now, we can take him with us. It would be prudent to follow Elladan and Elrohir and see if we can do anything for Legolas."

Bregolien could not suppress a shudder. The one thing he did not want to do was face the anger of the Elven-king.

* * *

Eredhion, sitting behind Elladan on his horse, was the first to dismount. The glade was empty, although dark stains on the ground, just visible in the first light of the rising sun, were a grim reminder of what had happened. Beneath a tall beech was a cairn of flat stones, from which Eredhion averted his eyes.

"They must have gone somewhere else," he said. "For safety. The trees will help us."

Several minutes later, Voronwë, standing anxiously at the mouth of the cave, was rewarded by the sight of three Elves hurrying up the slope to him.

"At last!" He ran out to meet them. "He is slipping. I have done what I could for his injuries, but I fear it was not enough. The poison has taken hold."

"We will take care of him," Elrohir said reassuringly as he and Elladan hastened into the cave. They dropped to their knees on either side of Legolas, neither voicing the concern they both felt at the sight of his pale face and closed eyes.

"Elfling?" Elladan said gently, tapping Legolas' cheek with a finger. "Are you awake?"

Legolas opened his eyes, much to Elladan's relief.

"Dan? Ro?"

"Yes, Elfling," Elrohir responded, taking Legolas' hand. "We are here to help you."

"How…"

"We followed you."

"_Nana_? Is she…"

The brief glance that passed between his friends was all the confirmation Legolas needed. With a sigh, he let his eyes drift shut again.

"What do you think?" Elrohir asked his twin in an undertone. "We can ask Bregolien what the poison was."

"No," Elladan said. "He would just lie about it. We might even make it worse if we acted on Bregolien's advice. Legolas is running a fever, but that could be a result of the injuries and the blood loss… And so could his weakness. He is showing no other visible symptoms. We can give him something to slow the poison, whatever it is, but for a serum we will have to take him to _Ada_."

"That will take far too long! He is too badly injured to travel quickly."

"He will have to travel quickly," Elladan said soberly. "It will be a difficult journey for him, Ro, but we will help him all we can. With luck he will be unconscious through most of it. I do not want to risk giving him a drug for the pain."

"But –"

"Elrohir." Elladan laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I do not want Legolas to suffer any more than you do. There is no choice. If we make a litter and go home at a pace that will not jolt his injuries, we may take _weeks_ to reach Imladris. He will not heal as rapidly as usual this time, with everything that has happened. It may be too late by the time _Ada_ can see him. We have no time to lose. We will have to get him on one of our horses and ride hard."

Elrohir bit his lip and nodded.

"We can bind his wounds properly first. It will not take long – and it will make the trip easier for him."

* * *

The first thing Thranduil saw was the hastily-constructed cairn. His heart constricted, knowing who surely lay within. Before he could dismount, though, another movement caught his eye, and he turned.

A group of warriors, garbed in the colours of Imladris, were riding into the glade, led by Glorfindel. Bregolien was with them, bound, his eyes glimmering with an eerie mixture of terror and malice.

Thranduil's hand closed on the hilt of his sword. A warning glance from Thorontur prevented him from drawing it. He settled for getting off his horse and waiting while the Imladrin warriors dismounted. Glorfindel crossed the few yards to Thranduil, hauling Bregolien along with him with a careful lack of gentleness. The Elven-king felt his anger mounting as he looked at the murderer of his wife.

"_Mellon nîn_," Glorfindel said, cutting into his thoughts, "I am so sorry for what has happened. I wish we had been in time to stop it."

Unable to speak, Thranduil only nodded, briefly clasping the hand that was held out to him before turning to Glorfindel's captive. The sight of Bregolien was enough to restore his voice.

"Where is my son?" Thranduil growled. Something in his face made Bregolien step away.

"I left him here," he said, his tone half-protest and half-plea. "I do not know where he is now. He cannot have gone far – he was too badly injured."

At that statement, and the satisfaction that Bregolien could not keep from his voice, the last of Thranduil's self-control snapped. Faster than thought, his sword was out and at Bregolien's throat. The other Elf stumbled back with an alarmed exclamation, but he found that he could not retreat far enough to avoid the unyielding steel of the Elven-king's blade.

"Tell me now," Thranduil said coldly. "Where is he?"

"I do not know," Bregolien stammered, his voice becoming more urgent as the sword pressed harder. "Truly, I do not know. I left him here. Eredhion and Voronwë were with him. They might have taken him elsewhere."

"I believe he is telling the truth," Glorfindel offered.

"In that case," Thranduil snarled, "I have no further use for him."

A hand on his arm stopped him from plunging the sword home.

"No," Arbellason said firmly. "Do not do it. You do not want to do it."

Thranduil stared at him.

"Have you lost your senses? Of course I want to do it. This misbegotten traitor has… I cannot even speak of what he has done! I would kill him five times over if I could!"

"I know what he has done," Arbellason said, pulling Thranduil away. "And he will face justice. Justice, _mellon nîn_, not vengeance. Do not do this. Let him answer for his crimes in your court, under _your_ law."

"Law cannot restore my wife to me."

"Nor can slaughtering him now."

"Legolas is alive, _mellon nîn_," Thorontur added quietly. "Will you go to him with the blood of a kinsman on your sword?"

After a long pause, Thranduil shook his head.

"You are right," he admitted. "I will not do something for which I must be ashamed before my son."

* * *

Legolas hissed aloud, eyes flying open. Elrohir, who was wrapping a bandage around his ribs, looked at him apologetically.

"I am sorry, Elfling. Did I hurt you?"

"No…" Legolas murmured. "_Ada_…"

"Your _Ada_ is fine, Legolas, I promise you."

"He is here."

Elrohir looked up. Sure enough, there was a large party of warriors approaching, including both Thranduil and Glorfindel. With a hasty injunction to Legolas not to try to move, he got to his feet and went to meet them. Elladan joined him.

"How is he?" Thranduil asked without ceremony as soon as he dismounted.

The twins exchanged a glance. Neither of them could conceive of Thranduil being pleased by the news that they proposed to take Legolas back to Imladris.

Finally Elladan said, "Alive, at the moment, my king, but…"

Thranduil sighed.

"I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be restored to me unharmed. What is the 'but'?"

"He has been poisoned," Elrohir said. "With your leave, my king, we will take him to our father. He will know what to do. Neither of us can identify the poison."

"I can send for healers. They will be here soon… And you will not have to take him to Imladris."

"My king," Elladan said gently, "they would take hours, perhaps days, to get here. If they came and discovered that they could do nothing… It might then be too late by the time we could get him to our father. Let us take him now. _Ada_ and _Nana_ will look after him."

Thranduil jerked a nod.

"Can I speak with him?"

"Of course," Elrohir said. "It will do him good to see you."

* * *

Thranduil entered the cave alone, fearfully. Legolas was propped against one of the walls in a half-sitting position, head pillowed on a rolled-up cloak. His eyes were closed, but he opened them when Thranduil dropped to the ground next to him.

"_Ada._"

"Legolas," Thranduil replied, taking his son's hands. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Legolas ventured, making his father smile.

"I hope you will be fine, _tithen pen_. I have been worried about you." He squeezed Legolas' hands lightly. "We do not have much time, Legolas. The sons of Elrond plan to take you to Imladris –"

"Imladris?"

"Your injuries are severe, _penneth_. You need Lord Elrond's help." He tightened his grip on Legolas' hands. "I want nothing more than to come with you, but I am needed here, especially now. I am so sorry."

He tried to prevent his voice from breaking, but he could not keep a tremor out of it. Legolas shivered.

"I am sorry, _Ada_. If I had –"

"It was not your fault, Legolas."

"You do not understand," Legolas said, breathing hard with the strain of talking. "If I had been able to fight them off, he might never have –"

"No," Thranduil said sharply. "I never want to hear such things from you again, Legolas. What happened was Bregolien's doing and his alone. It was not your fault. You cannot blame yourself."

"But –"

"Legolas."

Even injured as he was, the young Elf knew that tone in his father's voice. It brooked no disobedience.

Legolas sighed.

"Yes, _Ada_."

Thranduil bent to kiss his son's forehead.

"You do not know how difficult it is for me to let you go now, Legolas. You must do as Lord Elrond tells you, and not take off your bandages because – what was it? – oh, yes, because it 'no longer hurts'. You will be home soon, I promise. I will be waiting for you." A shadow moved across the cave mouth, and Thranduil drew in a quivering breath. "You have to go now, Elfling. Do not stay away too long. I will miss you."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Ernil nîn_ – My prince

_Nana _– Mum/Mummy

_Ada_ – Dad/Daddy

_Mellon nîn_ – My friend

_Penneth_ – Young one

* * *

*dares to come out of hiding*

This chapter was meant to be longer, but that seemed like the right place to end it.

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	19. The Burden of Guilt

**Disclaimer: **Not Tolkien. Own nothing.

Thanks to Escape my reality, mikinyet, Ohtar Vicky, Silivren Tinu, XoLikeWoahxO, alanic, Thranduil's Heart And Soul, Cushion, anime-catdragon, momiji'sunusedhalo, awaylaughingonafastcamel and Ailiel Raith of Ithilien for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Burden of Guilt**

Legolas knew very little of what was happening. Vaguely he was aware of voices, sunlight on his face, a gentle kiss to his brow and a voice saying, "Take care of him."

"He will be fine with us, my king," someone replied.

Then he was lifted up into a much more uncomfortable and painful position, one that stretched his wounds and put pressure on broken ribs. He let out a soft gasp. At once arms were around him, strong and supporting, and a voice was murmuring reassurances in his ear. Legolas half-turned and blinked blearily. Anxious grey eyes came into focus.

"El'dan?" he mumbled.

"No, Elrohir," his friend corrected, a frown creasing his brow. "You must really be tired, Elfling… It has been a _very _long time since you mixed us up."

Legolas leaned against Elrohir and shut his eyes, as comfortable as he could be astride a horse in his condition. They did not set out at once; for a while Legolas simply sat, content to listen to the soft hum of familiar voices and the sounds of the forest in the morning. A cup was held to his lips and he drank obediently, too tired, for once, to argue. In any case, the liquid did not taste like a sleeping drug. It seared his throat as it went down, leaving him with oddly sharper senses.

The young Elf fought not to sigh. He had half-hoped for something that would put him to sleep and give him some relief from the pain of his injuries.

"We cannot give you a painkiller, Elfling," Elrohir whispered, as though sensing his thoughts. "I am sorry." There was a pause, and then Elrohir spoke again, this time to somebody else. Legolas did not bother to try to decipher what was being said.

Then Elrohir murmured, "Hold on, Legolas. This will hurt, but I will not let you fall."

The horse moved. Elrohir kept the pace to a canter, but even that was enough to jolt Legolas almost unbearably. He shifted a little. Elrohir responded at once by changing his grip so that Legolas felt the jolts less.

"Ro?"

"What is it, Elfling?"

"Thank you… for… coming for me."

The arms around him tightened.

"Of course we came for you, Elfling. I only wish we had been sooner." The second sentence was spoken in a guilty, self-condemning tone that made the young Elf shiver.

"Not your fault," he said drowsily.

"I know, Elfling. It was not your fault, either."

The horse leapt suddenly over a fallen tree, making Legolas wince. But the pain brought at last the blessed oblivion he had been longing for, and he sank gratefully into darkness.

* * *

"He is gone."

"Only to heal. He will return." Thorontur's voice was soothing. Thranduil allowed himself to be led to his horse and urged onto it.

"Lindariel… We must bury her… properly…"

"What are Arbellason and I here for? We will take care of everything, _mellon nîn_. You must rest. You are tired."

Thranduil had not noticed his weariness before; as soon as his friend spoke, the full weight of it came crashing down upon him. But he did not know how he could rest. The emptiness in his soul tormented him too much, and the one Elf who might have been able to ease it was getting further away from him by the minute.

"I should be with Legolas."

"You would both benefit greatly from that," Thorontur agreed. "But that must wait. Come now." One of the soldier's led Thorontur's horse to him, receiving a nod of thanks as the warrior mounted. "We must go home."

"There is nothing there."

"Not at the moment," Thorontur said quietly. "But if you wish, you can ensure that there _is_ something there for Legolas when he returns." Without Thranduil's urging, his horse began to walk. "The time for that will be later. For now, you must rest."

* * *

The ride to Imladris took only days, but both Elladan and Elrohir were certain that those days would be among the longest of their lives. The two of them and Glorfindel took in turns to hold Legolas, who drifted in and out of consciousness, seldom aware of where he was or who was with him. The riders stopped as little as they reasonably could, aware that they were racing against time.

When they were nearly home, they gave up all attempts at pacing themselves and galloped the remaining distance to the Last Homely House.

Elrond, Celebrían and Erestor were waiting for them in the courtyard. The grave expressions they wore told Glorfindel that they already knew most of what had passed. There would be time to go into details, but it would be later.

Elrohir dismounted first. With a perfunctory greeting to his parents, he hurried to Elladan's side to help him ease Legolas down. Elrond joined them at once, deft healer's fingers feeling for temperature and pulse even as Elladan lowered the young Elf into his arms.

"Should I get a stretcher?" Elrohir asked.

"There is no need," Elrond said. "Carrying him to the Healing Ward can do no more harm than the journey has done already." Seeing his sons' despondent faces, he added, "I mean no censure. You did well to bring him here as quickly as you could. His injuries will heal, and with an unknown poison the slightest delay can prove fatal."

Elrond's approval would normally have pleased his sons, but this time their gloom was not alleviated in the slightest.

"Will he… live?" Elladan said, the anguish in his voice evident.

Elrond looked up at his firstborn son sympathetically.

"I will not lie to you, _penneth_. His wounds will have weakened his body. I will do my best to ascertain the nature of the poison and give him an antidote. Yet the poison is not what concerns me the most. His own grief may prove more debilitating than anything Bregolien could have done to him."

"He is strong," Elrohir whispered, half-pleading, turning to his mother in silent entreaty.

Celebrían slipped her arm around his shoulders.

"My skills lie elsewhere, _penneth_. I can do little to help him. But I believe, as you do, in the strength of our young Thranduilion. He has the courage to survive."

* * *

Thranduil stood before the mound of newly-turned earth. It was hard to believe that his wife lay within it, so close that no more than a few feet of soil separated them. It was all he could do to prevent himself from falling to his knees and scrabbling wildly at that soil.

In the tradition of her Wood-elven kin, a beech had been planted at the head of Lindariel's grave. Soon it would put out roots, and leaves; it would be tended carefully until it was strong enough to grow without help. Legolas, who had inherited his mother's encompassing love for the forest, might find some comfort in it. Thranduil doubted that he himself would ever find comfort in anything.

Suddenly, he could no longer bear to stand before his wife's grave. He fled, away from the palace, into the forest.

He did not know how long he walked or where he was going. He only walked until he felt far enough away that nobody would come and ask after his welfare, nobody would offer condolences that, however well-meant, sounded hollow in his ears, nobody would enquire delicately if word had come from Imladris of Legolas' condition.

Thranduil could not bear those questions.

Lindariel's death had ripped his senses from him. Since the initial flood of grief had faded he had felt practically nothing, not even anger towards Bregolien. He did not know if anything could ever make him feel again.

He did not know how long he sat there, silent, unmoving.

"Here you are."

Thranduil resisted the urge to groan aloud. He appreciated his friends' efforts to look after him, but their solicitousness was part of the reason he had stolen into the forest.

"You do not look pleased to see us."

"I am not a child," Thranduil pointed out evenly. "I am old enough to be allowed to take a walk on my own."

"We do not wish to intrude, _mellon nîn_," Arbellason said softly. "It may ease your grief to share it."

All the doubts and questions that had plagued him for days came to him again in a flood. Unable to help himself, Thranduil burst out, "Do you think that if Legolas had had more training, he might – might have been able to –"

"_Thranduil!_" Thorontur snapped sharply, not letting him finish the sentence.

For a moment Thranduil stared at his friend in surprise; then, realizing the cause of the admonition, he shook his head hastily.

"No – no, I did not mean… I was not blaming him! Do I not know my son? I do not doubt that he did all that anybody could possibly have expected of him, and more. I only wonder… if… it was my fault. If I had done more to prepare him…" He trailed off, staring at the ground for a few moments before looking up at them anxiously. "You will not tell him I said that – I – that is – I would not have him believing I held him responsible for any of this."

"He will hear nothing from us," Arbellason assured him, "but it was not your fault either, Thranduil." Then, "Something must be done about Bregolien, _mellon nîn_."

The Elven-king nodded.

"Summon the Council. I would prefer to have him dealt with, one way or another, before Legolas returns. I do not want him called upon to give evidence at the trial if it can possibly be avoided… It will be easier to avoid it while he is in Imladris."

"I do not think anybody will dispute that," Thorontur said. "We will do it. Is there anything else you want done?"

Thranduil was silent for so long that Thorontur and Arbellason, deciding that he wanted to be left to himself, started to slip away. Before they had taken more than a few steps, the Elven-king's voice stopped them.

"I will need your help."

"What is it?" Thorontur asked.

"There is something I must do… for Legolas. But I do not quite know enough of the craft."

* * *

It was sounds that Legolas knew first. Voices.

"… think he is waking up…"

"… _Ada_. He will know…"

"… not give him more painkillers…"

"Find my father. He will probably be in the Hall of Fire. Tell him Legolas is awake. Then find Lady Celebrían and ask her if she will come here at once."

"Can you open your eyes, Legolas?"

Realizing that that request was directed at him, Legolas opened his eyes. It was easier than he had expected.

He was in a bed in the Healing Wards of Imladris, Elladan and Elrohir seated on either side of him. They greeted him with identical pleased smiles.

"We feared we had lost you," Elladan said softly, squeezing the younger Elf's hand. "_Ada_ has fought for your life for days. I have never seen him so anxious before."

"How long have I been here?" Legolas rasped.

"It has been more than four days since we returned to Imladris," Elrohir told him, patting his shoulder.

Legolas tried to remember. Vague memories of burning pain came to his mind, of being forced to swallow foul-tasting potions and forcibly woken when all he wanted was to give in to the unconsciousness that was his only relief.

"It happened?" he asked softly. "It really happened?"

Sorrow came into both the faces above him. Elladan turned away, his eyes suspiciously bright and his grip on Legolas' hand tightening until the younger Elf could feel his bones grating together. Elrohir said gently, "It happened, Elfling."

"And _Nana_ is…"

"I am sorry."

Legolas shook his head at the apology, blinking back tears. He had had memories of that, as well, but he had hoped they were only nightmares brought on by an injury or a blow to the head.

Before he could ask anything else, the door opened and Elrond entered. He was closely followed by Celebrían and Glorfindel.

"Welcome back, Legolas," Elrond said, smiling and ruffling his hair as he had done when Legolas had been an Elfling. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Legolas said without thinking. Then he grinned at the chuckles that drew from Elladan and Elrohir. "I truly do feel fine, Lord Elrond. I am not in much pain, and I have not been able to think this clearly for… I do not know how long it has been." He hesitated; seeing no expression on the Elf-lord's face, he attempted to push himself up.

He was not surprised when Elladan and Elrohir held him firmly – and effortlessly – down. He frowned at his own weakness. It had been many, _many _decades since his friends had been able to subdue him with such ease.

"You have not yet recovered your strength, _penneth_," Lord Elrond said, correctly divining his thoughts. "It will take time. You can sit him up a _little_," he added to his sons. "I do not think it will aggravate any of his injuries. I want him to try to eat something now, in any case."

Legolas' frown deepened as he realized, for the first time, that much of his body was swathed in bandages. Yet Elrohir had told him that it had been four days since they had returned to Imladris, and they would have spent several days before that on the journey. Surely – _surely_ – his injuries ought to have healed by now.

He tried to move his arm, and was dissuaded immediately by a sharp pain in the protesting limb.

"The poison and the rigours of the journey affected your ability to heal, Elfling," Elladan told him, laying a hand on his arm to prevent him from trying to move it again. "Give it a few days. We will have you climbing trees again soon." Supporting Legolas on either side, the twins helped him up and rearranged his pillows so that he was comfortably propped. "For now, as _Ada_ says, you must eat."

* * *

Legolas managed no more than a few spoonfuls of broth before he dozed off. Leaving one of the attendant healers to watch over him for a few minutes, Elrond beckoned his sons out into the corridor.

"It is not just the poison, is it, _Ada_?" Elladan asked as soon as they were outside. "He should not be healing so slowly."

"I fear he may hold himself responsible for Lindariel's death," Elrond replied seriously. "That, combined with his grief, will keep him from healing as he should. But at least he woke today… And he seemed coherent. That is an improvement."

"He _will_ be all right?" Elrohir implored.

"I do not know," Elrond said. "I have done what I could. It is in Legolas' hands now." With an encouraging smile at his son, he added, "But I do know that the two of you are likelier than anybody, except possibly Thranduil, to be able to help him."

* * *

I meant to have this up yesterday, but the site was acting up. Still, finally managed it. *g*

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	20. Messages

**Disclaimer: **All _his_, down to the last leaf on the last tree in Greenwood. *sigh*

**Author's Note: **I am so, _so_ sorry this took so long… RL has been crazy! But it is back to normal now, and updates will be on schedule again.

Thanks to Ohtar Vicky, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Frodo's sister, Herald of Woe, Thranduils Heart And Soul, mikinyet, Silivren Tinu, momiji'sunusedhalo, Muse10, SormustenHerra, XoLikeWoahxO, Calenlass Greenleaf1, yenneffer and Cushion for reviewing. (And sorry if I missed replying to anyone – I've barely managed to keep up with online life the past couple of weeks.)

* * *

**Chapter 20: Messages**

"There is a letter from your father, Elfling." Legolas looked up at once. Elladan, smiling, shook his head. "Not until you have eaten. You cannot expect to heal quickly if you do not eat enough."

"I am not hungry," Legolas protested.

"I know you are not," Elrohir said, helping Legolas sit up. "But do you realize that until you regain enough strength to stand by yourself, you cannot hope to disobey _Ada_ and climb trees when he has ordered you to rest?"

"Did a messenger come from Eryn Galen today?"

"There has been a messenger from Eryn Galen _every_ day," Elladan replied. "They all demanded to see you, but _Ada_ would not let them." He felt Legolas' forehead. "You are still running a fever, but it seems better than yesterday. If you can finish your breakfast, we might even be persuaded to let you sit in a chair by the window."

"The trees will be delighted if that happens." Elrohir set a tray on Legolas' lap, laughing at how horrified the young Elf looked at the sight of the heaped dishes he was expected to clear. "They have been asking after you even more assiduously than your father's riders. The one outside your balcony is sulking because it wanted to see you but _Ada_ would not have you moved to your room – he can no longer stand beneath it. It keeps dropping twigs and acorns on him."

Legolas smiled weakly.

* * *

"He sends me no _news_," Thranduil grumbled, crumpling up Elrond's letter. "His sympathy and Celebrían's, advice from Glorfindel, and the tale of Erestor's woes in dealing with the men of Eriador – I ask for details of my son's condition and _this_ is what he sends me!"

"He has mentioned Legolas," Arbellason pointed out, taking the letter from his friend and spreading it out on the table. "_There._"

"He says, 'Legolas will be happy to hear that you are well.' I wanted to know if that Noldo has found a cure for the poison and when my son can return to me, and he tells me that Legolas will be happy to hear that I am well. What good is that?"

"If Legolas' condition had worsened, he would have mentioned it," Thorontur said.

"And he will not even let my messengers in to see Legolas!" Thranduil went on, ignoring him. "How am I to know anything of his condition? I do not even know if he has shown Legolas my letter!"

"In fairness to Elrond, your letter could not have reached Imladris before today. You will probably have an answer in a few days. You must calm down, Thranduil."

"How can I calm down?" Thranduil burst furiously. "My wife is dead – _dead_! My son may be dying, and with Elrond not answering my questions I will not even _know_ until it is too late! I do not want to calm down!"

"I understand," Thorontur said gently. "We are worried about Legolas as well. But we are also worried about you. You cannot help him like this. You are not eating. You are not sleeping. You are exhausting yourself. You will not even speak of your grief to anyone. Will you not talk to us, _mellon nîn_?"

Thranduil shook his head.

"I cannot speak of it," he whispered. "It is too near. And I am too… frightened."

Thranduil sensed rather than saw the concerned look his friends exchanged.

"Frightened of what?"

"That Legolas… will…" Thranduil paused to steady his voice. "I know Lindariel is gone, that nothing I do now can bring her back. But while I have hope of Legolas returning to me whole… I feel as though even speaking of what Bregolien has done will give it more power to harm him."

"Thranduil –"

"I know he is hurting. I can feel it. I was spared the horror of seeing Lindariel die, but _he_ was not… And he is so far from me. I fear for him."

Before either of them could respond, Istuion slipped apologetically into the room.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, my king… Bregolien has been taken to the courtroom. The Council is waiting. Lady Ellaurë advised me that if you do not go there yourself, it will be difficult to keep the crowds in check."

"We are coming."

Thranduil left the room first. Thorontur held Arbellason back, murmuring, as soon as the Elven-king was out of earshot, "Should we tell him?"

Arbellason looked at the letter which Thorontur had kept carefully concealed from Thranduil. They both knew what it contained, having skimmed it before going to Thranduil's study to find out how much Elrond had told him. Arbellason hesitated, but it did not take long for him to make up his mind and shake his head forcefully.

"Elrond is right – it is best not to tell him anything of Legolas' condition until we can assure him that the boy will heal. Thranduil would not recover if we raised his hopes and then…"

* * *

Legolas could not eat more than a quarter of what was on his tray.

Elrohir, feeling secretly delighted that the young Elf had managed that much, said, "I think such a valiant effort deserves a reward. We will put you in a chair by the window and then you can have your father's letter."

* * *

Not even at Bregolien's previous appearance had the court been so tumultuous or so hostile. Ellaurë had ordered every warrior who could possibly be spared to the courtroom for the beginning of the trial, in some cases cutting patrols and guard details down to half their usual number. Even so, it was nearly impossible to hold the crowd back when Bregolien was led into the room.

"Perhaps we should not hold his trial in open court," Arbellason muttered to Ellaurë. "This will only get worse, especially if we do not get some good news from Imladris soon."

"I could not agree more," the _elleth_ muttered back. "I do not want to have to punish some Elf for putting an arrow through Bregolien when that is precisely what I would like to do myself."

Istuion got to his feet. The room fell silent, although the baleful glances cast at the prisoner did not stop.

"Bregolien, you stand here accused of kinslaying and treason. You are charged with the murder of your mother, Lady Valadhiel, the murder of Queen Lindariel, and the attempted murder of Prince Legolas. Do you understand the gravity of these charges?"

Bregolien nodded silently.

"You are also charged with the murders of the guards and whom you killed while carrying out your despicable plan. Their families stand here to accuse you."

A group of Elves, who had been waiting apart from the crowd, stepped forward. Angry muttering began to come from the crowd, now trying to push past the Elves holding them away from the centre of the room. Arbellason's hand went to his belt, although he did not draw his sword.

* * *

… _and the day does not pass when the trees do not ask for news of you. I hope you are healing, little one. If you are not well enough to return before the snows, I will have to wait until next spring to see you again. I do not know how I will bear that._

_I know you are probably fretting because Elrond, if I know anything of him, has confined you to your room or to a bed in his Healing Ward, and is not letting you go out. I advise you to make the most of it and rest while you can. Thorontur has enough weapons practice and training drills planned for you to make you tired of the outdoors within a week. He is starting to annoy the Archery Masters. They think it is not his business to interfere with your training._

_I must confess that the very thought of your warrior training terrifies me now. I know I cannot keep you from your duty, but I wish that your duty were less dangerous._

_I hope you are not blaming yourself for anything that happened, Legolas. Bregolien's malice is not your doing in any way. Your mother would not want you to hold yourself responsible for what happened. From what I have heard, you did all that could have been expected of you. I am proud of you, my son, as, if she were here, she would be as well._

Legolas sighed, his eyes misting. The letter slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor with a faint rustle.

At once, Elladan, who had been sitting by the other window reading a book, was at his side.

"What is wrong, Elfling?" he asked, picking up the letter and dropping into a chair. "Is all well in the Woodland Realm?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what troubles you, Legolas," Elladan urged. "Talk to me."

"I… I do not know," the younger Elf said slowly. "It is hard to believe that _Nana_ is gone and I will not see her again. I feel almost as though this is all a nightmare, and that I will wake up to find…"

"To find everything as it was before?" Elladan asked gently, and Legolas nodded. "I do not know what comfort I can offer you, Legolas. It may be that you will see your mother again in Valinor, but even that will take time – and to one as young as you, it will seem a very _long_ time." Legolas shot him a half-hearted scowl; Elladan smiled and went on, "You must stop blaming yourself."

"I could not save her."

"You _tried_, Elfling. That is what is important. You tried to save her. You did not give up. You fought with all your strength."

"But it did no good." Legolas' voice broke on the last word.

Elladan wrapped his arms around his friend as tightly as he could without causing pain.

"Legolas, please," he whispered hoarsely. "You must not do this to yourself. It was not your fault." A sudden crack of thunder from outside made Legolas flinch. Elladan glared at the window and patted the young Elf's head soothingly. "_Please_, Elfling. You _must_ believe me. It was not your fault."

"What use was my training?" Legolas demanded, pulling away. "When it mattered, I could do _nothing_."

"You were injured and outnumbered – and you had been poisoned. You could not possibly have done any more. Legolas… _Ada_ fears that you will let yourself give in to your grief. You should have healed far more by now."

"And what of us, Elfling?" a third voice demanded. Legolas did not have to look up to know that Elrohir had entered the room. "How will I boast of having trained the finest archer of Middle-earth if you walk the Halls of Mandos? Who will get us into trouble if you are not here?"

Legolas managed a smile.

"You get yourself into trouble even when I am not here."

"But we do not enjoy it nearly so much," Elrohir said, sitting on Legolas' other side. "And you are the only one who can get us _out_ of trouble." He slipped one hand into Legolas', squeezing lightly. "Everyone is worried about you, _gwador nîn_. Your father has sent you one letter, but _Ada_ has had one from him daily, each message less courteous than the last, all threatening dire consequences if you are not restored to him whole."

"Back to bed with you, now," Elladan said. "You have tired yourself out enough for today."

"One of your father's riders is leaving in an hour. Do you have anything to tell him?"

"Tell him I am sorry," Legolas said, his voice trembling. "And… and tell him I will try not to fail him –"

"If you send him messages like _that_ he will come here with half his army ," Elrohir replied lightly. "You know you have nothing to be sorry for, Elfling." When Legolas did not respond, he leaned forward and said more forcefully, "Legolas, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for."

Reluctantly, Legolas nodded.

"Good." After a pause, Elrohir added, "I know your grief is still near, _tithen pen_, but whenever you are ready to speak of it, we are here."

"And in the meantime we will send your father your love and tell him you are getting better every day."

* * *

Rochendilwen waited in her room. Her aunt had forbidden her from going anywhere near the trial. Since her friends had all been summoned before the Council to bear witness to what they had seen and heard, and she could not bear to see anybody else, she was alone.

Nobody had spoken to her of her part in what had happened, but the empty chair beside Thranduil seemed to reproach her, and the lack of news from Imladris upset her almost as much as it did her king. If Legolas followed Lindariel to the Halls of Námo, she did not think she could live with herself. Saeldur and Aeroniel had assured her that she was in no way to blame, but their words could not assuage her feelings of guilt.

Coming to a sudden decision, she got to her feet and went outside. The palace grounds were empty. Everyone was at the trial. Across the courtyard, though, she could see an Elf mounting his horse.

She hailed him and quickened her step to a run.

"Please," she gasped as soon as she was close enough, "please, are you going to Imladris?"

"Yes, Lady Rochendilwen, but –"

"Will you take a message to Legolas for me?"

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	21. Judgement

**Disclaimer: **I've borrowed my father's laptop today, so this time I don't even own the computer.

Thanks to elizabeth201, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Silivren Tinu, mikinyet, momiji'sunusedhalo, Cushion, Ohtar Vicky and MDarKspIrIt for reviewing.

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**Chapter 21: Judgement**

"I had provocation."

The room, which had been abuzz with conversation, fell deadly silent. A few Elves glanced at Bregolien; most turned to Thranduil to gauge his reaction to the prisoner's statement.

"Provocation?" Ellaurë asked quietly. "Do you expect us to believe that you had just cause for murder?"

"What happened to the queen was a tragic accident, one which I regret greatly. I would not have harmed her if she had not tried to keep me from Legolas. My king, it grieves me to have to be the one to tell you this, but your son –"

"_Enough!_" Thorontur snapped. "We all know what you have done, Bregolien, and we all know Legolas. I am aware that you and he have frequently been at odds, and there is probably blame on both sides, but I refuse to believe that he did _anything_ to justify what you did to him. We are not here to listen to your lies!"

"I demand to face Legolas," Bregolien said. "You accuse me on the strength of what he said while he was barely even conscious –"

"He told me _nothing_ of what you did," Thranduil snarled, speaking for the first time. "There was no time. The trees have spoken against you, Bregolien – they have told us both what you did and how you managed to coerce them into concealing your activities. There is no need for you to face Legolas."

"My king, you do not understand! He has seditious ideas –"

"That will do." Thranduil's voice was barely audible above the angry muttering from the crowd. "If this is all you wish to say, I suggest you remain silent instead."

"My king, if you will only listen to me…"

Thranduil would have replied, probably to order Bregolien thrown into the dungeons, but Arbellason's hand on his arm stopped him.

"This is getting unruly," he murmured, indicating the gathered Elves with an unobtrusive gesture. "We cannot go on like this, _mellon nîn_. Most of them adored Lindariel, and they are fond of Legolas. If Bregolien continues to speak like this, they will kill him before we can do anything. We will have to close the trial to all except the families of the victims and those who must give evidence."

"We will have a riot on our hands if we do that," Thranduil said softly.

"We will have a worse one if we do not. Look at them, Thranduil… If the crowd becomes violent there will be nothing we can do about it. Do you want to have to order your own subjects to be subdued by force – and in order to defend _him_?"

Thranduil sighed and nodded.

"Do it. And call an end to it for today… We can go on in the morning."

* * *

"More for you to read, Elfling," Elrohir said as he came into the room. He carried a stack of books so high that only the top of his head was visible over it. "Erestor seems determined to have his vengeance for all the times you escaped his attempts to teach you history and political science."

"I cannot go out?" Legolas asked, trying to hide his disappointment.

"I did not say that." Laughing at Legolas' sudden, delighted smile, Elrohir perched himself on the edge of the bed. "If you drink all your potions without making a fuss, and if you let the healer change your bandages without attempting to persuade him that you are _fine_, I will take you outdoors for an hour." Then, with a half-hearted attempt at a stern expression, he added, "But you will let me help you up and down the stairs, you will not try to run, you will not try to climb trees, you will not exert yourself in any other way, you will return when I ask you to, and in all other ways you will do precisely as you are told."

"Lord Elrond has consented?"

"He is not happy about it, but _Nana_ has persuaded him that it will do more harm than good to keep a little wood-sprite from the trees."

Legolas flung his arms around Elrohir in a gleeful hug. Elrohir, chuckling, hugged him back.

"I know you are pleased, Elfling. Now see if you can behave yourself for an hour so that _Ada_ has no excuse to rescind his permission."

* * *

"Are you ready for this?" Thorontur asked, glancing at Thranduil.

The Elven-king shrugged.

"If it must be done…"

"Courage, _mellon nîn_," Arbellason murmured. "Only think… The sooner we do this, the sooner we will be finished with him."

Thranduil nodded and reached for the door handle. Instead of opening the door, though, he paused and turned to Thorontur.

"Is there _any_ news of Legolas?"

Thorontur's instinctive response was to tell Thranduil the truth: it was terrible to see the misery and doubt in his friend's eyes. But an urgent gesture from Arbellason stopped him.

"Elrond says he is healing unusually slowly – but that is only to be expected. He is strong, Thranduil. I am certain he will live." The despair on Thranduil's face deepened. Thorontur, with a small smile, went on, "You must be strong as well. I cannot imagine how you must feel now, but… He needs you. Elrond can only heal his body, not his spirit."

"Come," Arbellason said gently, pushing open the door. "It is time."

* * *

Legolas quickly discovered why Elrond had been so nonchalant about the possibility of his disobeying orders. He did not have the strength to do otherwise. He was still not fully healed. While it felt wonderful to be out of bed and walking, every step sent pain shooting through his ribs.

He tried not to show it, but he could not keep himself from grimacing slightly. When Elrohir slipped a supporting arm around him long before they reached the stairs, he leaned gratefully into it.

"Not much farther, Elfling," Elladan murmured. "We are only going to the back garden."

They came to the stairs. With Elladan and Elrohir holding his arms and taking most of his weight, Legolas managed to get himself down them. Elrohir looked as proud as if Legolas had just discovered a way to fly, and Elladan scarcely less so. With a broad grin, the older twin patted his friend's back.

"Here we are," Elrohir said as they emerged into the sunlit garden. "Where do you want to sit?"

"I recommend the tree outside your room," Elladan said. "It is nearby. Moreover, you might be able to persuade it to stop attacking _Ada_."

Legolas' grin was acquiescence enough.

Elrohir helped him to the tree. With some help from his friends, Legolas managed to lower himself to the ground with his back to it. He laughed, inexplicably happy at being outdoors, under the trees. It had been so long…

_Elfling!_

Legolas patted the tree trunk, smiling up into strong branches that were practically trembling with pleasure.

_I am pleased to see you._

_I thought you had forgotten me_, the tree said accusingly, making Elrohir, who was near enough to understand, stifle a chortle. _For days – days, Elfling! – I have been demanding to see you, but the Master of Imladris has his own ideas. This is what comes of listening to the Noldor!_

We _are Noldor_, Elrohir protested.

_You are fools_, the tree replied serenely. _If you are nearly as bad as Eärendilion and the Balrog-slayer despite your mother's beneficial influence, I shudder to imagine what you would have been like without it. _The tree seemed to shudder in truth: Legolas felt the trunk vibrate beneath him. _Now let me talk to the Elfling in peace._

Elrohir made a face at the tree and lowered himself to the ground beside Legolas. Elladan sat some distance away, eyeing the tree with suspicion.

"It dropped some acorns on Elladan yesterday," Elrohir whispered.

_The Elf deserved it. He called me a daisy!_ Several acorns dropped from the tree, but Elladan had seated himself well out of the way. _Me, one of the tallest, mightiest trees in Imladris! It is an insult not to be borne!_

* * *

"… But I _demand_ that you listen to me! I had good reason for what I did – Legolas _gave_ me a reason. This is not justice!" Bregolien looked around the room with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He was met by flat stares from the twelve members of Thranduil's Council and a cold glare from the Elven-king.

"We are not interested in hearing your lies," Thranduil ground out.

"How do you know they are lies when you do not even know what I intend to say?" Bregolien countered. "You let your love for your son blind you, my king."

After a long moment of silence, Thranduil said, "Very well. Speak."

Bregolien drew a deep breath and looked around at the assembled Elves.

"I admit I had ill intent," he said quietly. "In the beginning, when I went to Imladris, I planned to kill Legolas and the queen. But… I cannot explain what happened. Somewhere, on the road from Elrond's house to the High Pass, I began to repent of my earlier actions. Perhaps it was the sight of Legolas and his mother, and the bond between them: I knew that my own actions had deprived me of the gift of her presence for countless centuries, perhaps forever. That was when I confessed my plans to Legolas…"

* * *

"I failed her," Legolas whispered. "I failed them all."

Elladan and Elrohir, who had been about to leave the room, stopped short and turned back. They crossed the room with quick strides and sat on either side of Legolas.

"You did not fail anybody, _gwador nîn_," Elrohir said softly. "You know that."

"If I had not let him catch me…"

"You were trying to lure him away from her," Elladan pointed out. "That was an act of great courage, _penneth_. It was not your fault that he caught up with you. You were injured."

"Besides," Elrohir said, "if you truly want to worry about what might have been, if _we_ had acted on our instincts and refused to let you leave with Bregolien, none of this would have happened. Elladan and I are to blame for that, and for being too slow to come to the rescue – we knew what had happened, but we could not follow your trail quickly enough."

Legolas looked appalled.

"I did not mean that! It was not your fault – you could not have known what he planned."

"And you, Elfling, could not have stopped him," Elladan said, smiling slightly. "He is an experienced warrior, Legolas, and an accomplished swordsman. You are good, but you are not yet _that _good."

"One day you will be," Elrohir promised, laying one hand carefully on Legolas' shoulder. "You will be good enough to defeat him or any other opponent. But you must give yourself time…" He bent closer to Legolas. "A time _will_ come when you will sit on your father's war council, you will probably command his archers, you will be an experienced warrior yourself. At that time, if you are unable to evade capture, it will probably be because of carelessness or recklessness."

"Neither of which I would put past you," Elladan contributed, earning a smile from Legolas.

"And when that happens," Elrohir went on, "as it undoubtedly will, we will tell you that you are a young fool and lecture you about your responsibilities."

"Although you will not be any less our friend," Elladan said, giving Legolas a light squeeze.

"But today, Elfling, it is not your fault. We are proud of you."

* * *

"… And Legolas – I do not blame him entirely; he may have been resentful of what many see as over-protectiveness – said that he _wanted_ to do it. I tried to dissuade him, but –"

Bregolien cut himself off. Thranduil had pushed back his chair and risen to his feet, eyes sparkling with barely-contained rage. He stepped away from the long table. Bregolien took several involuntary steps back, not stopping until he felt the unyielding hardness of the wall behind him.

"You have killed my wife," Thranduil said menacingly. "You have killed many of my people, including your own mother. You are guilty of murder, kinslaying and treason. Nobody would blame me if I killed you now, or had you taken back to the Hithaeglir and flung from the highest peak in sight. The only thing preventing me from doing that is the knowledge that in a few weeks Legolas will return, and I do not want to do anything that I would be ashamed to admit to my son." The menace sharpened. "Continue to slander him in this ridiculous attempt to extenuate yourself, and you will find that my restraint does not last."

He turned and stalked out of the room, but stopped in the doorway when he heard Bregolien laugh behind him.

He turned. Bregolien stood now with all pretensions gone, eyes malicious and mocking, head cocked in unconscious arrogance.

"How you dote upon that foolish child," he said softly. "I was far too gentle with him. There might have been more interesting gifts for you than that bow… Perhaps there will still be time. It would be so much more satisfying to make you watch your son die, to make you beg for his life so that I might have the pleasure of refusing."

Thranduil's hands clenched into fists.

"Exile," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Death is too good for you. You will be taken into the forest and left there. The forest knows what you have done. You may be able to persuade the trees to let you go, or you may not. I do not know. But if you are seen in this realm after seven days have passed, your life is forfeit."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	22. Truth

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own a thing!

I'm sorry this has taken longer than usual… Blame the tax man and his unfathomable forms! *sheepish grin*

Thanks to Thranduil's Heart And Soul, momiji'sunusedhalo, Ne'ith5, Silivren Tinu, mikinyet, anime-catdragon, Muse10, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Ohtar Vicky, Mister Bandpants and Cushion for reviewing.

* * *

**Chapter 22: Truth**

"_Two_ letters for you today, Elfling," Elladan said as he and Elrohir strolled into Legolas' room. The young Elf looked up with a delighted grin. After much pleading, he had finally been permitted to move out of the Healing Ward the previous day, on the condition that he did not attempt to leave his room without help. It was evident that he was enjoying his relative freedom and looking forward to the thought of more.

"There is one from your father, of course," Elrohir told him, holding it out. "And this – I do not know." He held out the other.

Legolas took the proffered scrolls and dropped into a chair by the window. Elladan and Elrohir sat on either side of the fireplace, far enough to give Legolas privacy while he read, but near enough to offer comfort if either of the letters carried disturbing news.

The Elf-prince opened his father's letter first.

Thranduil had spent the first page deploring Elrond's tendency for secrecy, and the second page speculating on the possible causes. The politest comment Thranduil had made was that Elrond had probably had a Dwarf as a tutor in his youth. Legolas found himself laughing as he read the letter, drawing approving glances from the twins.

The rest of the letter sobered him, though: his father said that Bregolien would come to trial soon. Legolas could not deny that he was relieved that the matter would be dealt with before he returned home. The last thing he wanted to do was to see Bregolien again and have to relive the horrors of their last confrontation. But he was sorry that he would not be with his father at such a troubling time. Thranduil had kept his messages light and cheerful, clearly trying to keep Legolas' spirits up, but Legolas knew him well enough to see through the charade.

The letter wound up with an injunction to obey the healers and an admonition to return to Greenwood soon.

The young Elf, with a small smile and the resolve to go home as soon as Lord Elrond could be coaxed into allowing it, let the scroll spring closed. He opened the other, and his eyes widened when he saw who it was from.

"Is something wrong?" Elladan asked, ever alert.

Legolas shook his head.

"No… at least… I have not yet read it." He looked up at his friends. "It is from Rochendilwen."

"What does she say?"

Legolas returned his attention to the letter.

"They all miss me… she hopes I am well and will return soon… but…" The young Elf fell silent as his eyes travelled down the page. After a couple of minutes, he looked up again uneasily. "She says… she says she…" He shook his head and trailed off. "Perhaps you should read it."

* * *

In the few days that had passed since Bregolien's trial, Thranduil had grown increasingly withdrawn. Only part of the reason for his sullenness was that he missed Lindariel. The other part was that he was growing more and more worried about Legolas.

He had had one letter from his son – a good sign, as Thorontur had pointed out to him, because it meant that Legolas had been well enough to be allowed out of bed to write it. But, while Legolas had said he was well, the letter was not nearly as merry as the ones Thranduil was accustomed to receiving when his son was in Imladris. That was only to be expected, of course; yet he could not help but worry.

He sat in his private dining room, idly pushing his food around his plate. He had not been able to bear the thought of eating in the hall downstairs, but now he found the silence of the royal apartments terrible.

Giving up his attempts to interest himself in his lunch, he looked at the far wall. On it hung a full-length painting of Legolas and Lindariel, which had been commissioned shortly after Legolas had finished the first stage of his warrior training. The young Elf, wearing the tunic and short brown cloak of a novice, seemed excited and enthusiastic. Lindariel was looking at her son with pride.

Thranduil remembered the sittings for that portrait.

Legolas had been so thrilled about having passed his archery trials that he had barely been able to stand still for more than a minute at a time. Lindariel, for once, had been nearly as bad: no amount of cajoling from the painter had been able to make her look at him instead of at her son. Finally the poor Elf had given up and painted as well as he could in the circumstances.

Thranduil sighed. It seemed like only yesterday that he had been sitting in this very room, dining with Legolas and Lindariel on the night before their departure for Imladris. Legolas had been in such infectious high spirits, and Lindariel had been so pleased at the thought of seeing her friends, that Thranduil had found that he did not mind the parting _too_ much. He still could not grasp the fact that he would not see Lindariel again on this side of the Sea, that, if things went ill in the house of Elrond, he might not see Legolas.

Lost in thought, he did not hear the door open.

"I am gratified to see that you are eating well," Thorontur said dryly. Without pausing for a reply, he went on, "I have something to tell you."

Something in his friend's tone caught Thranduil's attention.

"What?"

"Legolas is better." Thorontur pulled out the chair to Thranduil's right and sat. "_Much_ better, _mellon nîn_. Elrond is almost certain that he will live."

"_Almost_ certain?"

"He has healed well, but not completely. Elrond says in his letter that he plans to let Legolas leave the Healing Wards in a few days – and given the time it would take for a rider from Imladris to get here, he may have done so by now. He _is_ much better, but… Elrond says he still grieves, and he blames himself for what happened. That is why he cannot be certain." He paused. "There is _far_ more hope than there was in the beginning, Thranduil. He is healing."

Thranduil did not feel the all-encompassing joy he would have expected to feel at such news.

"What is the point of Elrond's near-certainties?" he found himself saying bitterly. "They cannot restore my son to me if he has decided to die."

If Thorontur was startled by the reaction, he did not show it.

"You must not give up," he said gently. "I understand how you feel, Thranduil. I know I cannot imagine how terrible your fear of losing Legolas must be, especially when he is so far from you, but you must have faith. You cannot expect Legolas _not_ to be upset after everything that happened. That he is healing at all is a good sign."

"You do _not_ understand how I feel," Thranduil snapped, knowing he sounded like a stubborn adolescent, and not caring. "I – I feel as though my soul has been ripped from my body. I know nothing. I care for nothing. I cannot eat or sleep." He drew in a shaking breath. "All I have to live for now is Legolas – and yet I cannot hope that I will see him again, not when I know he must be suffering as I am. Perhaps more, since he was forced to see what I only have to think about. And he is so young, _mellon nîn_ – how will he have the strength for this?"

"He is your son," Thorontur said simply.

"And even if he _does_ live, if he does return, what does he return to? I am not fit to be a father anymore. I – I truly cannot bring myself to care about anything. He deserves better than to come back to this." He gestured around the room. "I have been thinking, Thorontur… When I wrote to Elrond this morning, I asked if he thought it would be wise for Legolas to stay in Imladris for a few years."

"_Stay in Imladris?_" Thorontur asked, after a moment's incredulous silence. "After everything that has happened, you have told your son to stay in Imladris? Are you out of your mind?"

"It will be better for him," Thranduil protested defensively.

"Oh?" Thorontur asked, dangerously polite. "It appears that you are right, Thranduil, I do not understand. How will it be better for him to stay away from his father and his home?"

"I told you. I am not fit to be a father."

"Ah." For a moment it appeared that Thorontur was going to lose his temper, then he seemed to think better of it. "Very well, my king. As you wish. You know best, after all. And if Legolas should happen to ask me _why_ he is to stay in Imladris, I will tell him that you have ordered it because you no longer want to be his father."

"I did not say _that_," Thranduil yelped, appalled.

"_That_ is how he will see it." Thorontur gave his friend a hard look. "Legolas _is_ upset, Thranduil – of course he is upset! Anyone would be upset. But if you tell him ridiculous stories about how you are not fit to be a father, it will only upset him more! Do you care for the boy?"

"How can you even ask me that?" the Elven-king demanded in outrage.

"You had best be prepared for the question, because I am certain Elrond will ask it when he gets your letter. I hope you did not say anything to Legolas."

Thranduil scowled at him.

"No."

"Good," Thorontur said curtly, getting to his feet. "Honestly, Thranduil, if I were not willing to make allowances for your deficient intelligence, _I_ would question your fitness to be a father. Stay in Imladris, indeed!" He stalked out of the room, muttering under his breath.

* * *

Elrohir was perched on the arm of Legolas' chair, one arm wrapped around him, while Elladan read the letter aloud.

The twins had both known the story of Rochendilwen's involvement in Bregolien's escape – since Thorontur had told Elrond everything – but neither of them had expected that she would make a full confession to Legolas. A confession was precisely what the letter was: in an odd, detached tone that said she was probably close to hysteria, Rochendilwen had recounted every single thing that had passed between her and her brother since their mother's death.

Towards the end the tone became much less controlled. It was clear that the young _elleth_ was deeply troubled.

"… _if I had had the slightest hint of what he was_," Elladan read softly. "_But you must believe me, Legolas, when I tell you that nobody could regret what_ –" He broke off, pushing the letter into Legolas' hands. "I think you should read the rest for yourself, Elfling."

Legolas quickly read the few remaining paragraphs. Other than laying the scroll on the table when he had finished, he did not move.

"Well?" Elladan prompted gently. At Legolas' bewildered look, he added, "Are you angry with her?"

"I do not know," the young Elf responded, sounding helpless. "I – I should not be."

"That is true," Elrohir agreed, giving Legolas a light squeeze. "You should not be. Rochendilwen trusted her brother just as you would trust one of us. She could not possibly have known what he was. But we will not think less of you if you _are_ angry, Elfling. It is normal."

"You should not blame her," Elladan added, "because she truly cannot be blamed for believing in Bregolien. I know her well enough to know that she would not willingly have done anything to harm you or your mother. But you should not blame yourself, either, if it is difficult in the beginning. If you need some time before you can think of Rochendilwen without anger, take that time. You are unlikely to see her in the next few days in any case."

Legolas nodded, but said nothing.

After a few moments' silence, Elladan said, "_Ada_ will probably let you go home in a couple of weeks, Legolas… if you want to go, that is."

"Of course _Ada _and _Nana_ would be delighted to have you here for as long as you want to stay," Elrohir put in, ruffling Legolas' hair. "But _Ada_ thinks you might want to be with your father. It is entirely your decision, though, Legolas – if you would rather not go to Eryn Galen until time has dulled the edge of grief, you need not go."

"I want to see my father," Legolas said slowly. "But…"

"But what, Elfling?"

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course we will," Elladan said, looking startled by the question. "Did you think we were planning to let you return alone? We will come, _tithen gwador_, and we will stay as long as you want us."

* * *

When Thorontur left the royal apartments, he made his way straight to Arbellason's study. He found his friend poring over a map of Eryn Galen.

"Has Elrond's letter arrived yet? What does he say?"

"That he is hopeful enough of Legolas' recovery for us to tell Thranduil that he is better… And that he may send Legolas home in a few weeks."

Arbellason straightened at once.

"He says that Legolas – but that is the best news we could have hoped for! Thranduil must be delighted. He will finally cheer up after this! You _have_ told him?"

"I told him Legolas was better," Thorontur said, a frown wrinkling his brow. Arbellason stared.

"What happened?"

"He is being a fool!" Thorontur burst out. "Some ridiculous nonsense about how Lindariel's death has left him unable to care about anything and how he does not think he is fit to be a father anymore… Apparently the idiot has gone and told Elrond that he wants Legolas to stay in Imladris for a few years!"

"_What?_"

"I do not know what is wrong with him! Nobody who has spent five minutes with him can be in any doubt that what he wants more than anything is for Legolas to return. But here he is, doing his best to achieve the precise opposite! I have no idea what to do with him."

"Well…" Arbellason said slowly, "there is _one_ thing we can do."

"What is that?"

"Write to Elrond and tell him to ignore anything Thranduil says and send Legolas home as soon as he is well enough to ride."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations:**

_Mellon nîn_ – My friend

_Tithen gwador_ – Little (sworn) brother

* * *

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	23. The Strange Habits of Elves

**Disclaimer: **If I could _just _manage to sneak away with an Elf…

Thanks to SormustenHerra, mikinyet, Ohtar Vicky, Thranduils Heart And Soul, momiji'sunusedhalo, Silivren Tinu, yenneffer, Escape my reality, anime-catdragon, awaylaughingonafastcamel and Cushion for reviewing!

* * *

**Chapter 23: The Strange Habits of Elves**

"_Much _better." Celebrían smiled at the young Elf who was being taken through a set of very simple swordsmanship exercises by Glorfindel. "I can scarcely believe it has only been a week since Elrond permitted you to begin them."

Elrond, who had been watching anxiously, nodded agreement.

"You have been doing very well, Legolas. But that is enough for today – if you exert yourself too much, you could undo all the good work. I want you to return to your room and _rest_ until dinner. That means no climbing down from the balcony and going exploring."

"I will send the twins up to keep you company as soon as they have finished _their_ sword practice," Glorfindel added.

Legolas could not hold back a grin at the sight of Elladan and Elrohir's horrified faces.

"Yes, my lord."

"That will do admirably, Glorfindel," Celebrían said. "I want to speak to you in any case, Legolas. Come."

She led the Elf-prince indoors and up to her sitting-room, where she saw him comfortably ensconced in a padded armchair with a cup of wine in his hands before she sat beside him.

"I am not going to ask you how you are, Legolas." At his startled glance, she supplied, "I know that you are as well as can be expected. I know that you will never forget, and that it will be some time before the bitterness goes out of memory. I will not ask you to talk about it unless you want to. I only want you to know that we are here, all of us, if ever you should need us."

Legolas felt his eyes burn.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, his voice shaking.

"I have something to tell you, Elfling."

"My lady?"

"Yesterday Elrond had a letter from your father's friend, Lord Thorontur."

"Yes, my lady?"

"He said Thranduil is taking Lindariel's death… harder… than we had hoped."

Legolas went pale.

"He is not –"

"No, no," Celebrían hastened to assure him. "He is in good health, for now. But Thorontur fears that it will not last." She paused. "Thranduil is afraid that he will not be able to be the father you need. I can understand his doubts, although I do not believe that there is any danger of that coming to pass. However… Thorontur feels, and Elrond and I agree with him, that the one thing that can help Thranduil now is your presence. Elrond did not intend to let you travel for some days more, but…"

"I will go, my lady," Legolas said promptly.

Celebrían nodded.

"Elrond already replied to Thorontur to say you would leave as soon as you are able. But it will not be tonight – no, Elfling," she said firmly, cutting off his protest. "Not today, and not tomorrow. The day after that, perhaps, if you have recovered enough. You do not yet have enough strength for the trip – this is more than a morning's riding!"

Legolas knew there would be no point arguing.

"Yes, my lady."

"Elladan and Elrohir have already expressed their intention of accompanying you, whether you want to them or not. However, I understood from their conversation that they were reasonably certain of your wanting them."

"Yes, my lady," Legolas mumbled, flushing.

"Good." She paused. "One last thing, Legolas… I have known many battles, known many Elves who have lost those close to them. You may find Thranduil slightly… changed by what has happened. Being the stubborn fool he is, he may say things he does not mean in a misguided attempt to make you leave. No matter what happens, do not doubt that your father loves you."

* * *

Any visitor could tell that the room had once been a child's nursery. The barred windows were slightly smaller and set higher than any of the other windows in the building. The walls had originally been painted with a bright pattern of swirling leaves, but that had faded over time and it now survived only in parts.

The low cot that had stood in the middle of the room had been pushed into a corner and covered with a stout linen sheet to protect it from dust. There was now a large table where the cot had been.

At this sat the Elven-king, one hand running distractedly through his hair and tugging at his braids. With his other hand, he was paging through an old book. The table before him was littered with tools, wood shavings and lengths of string.

He felt harassed and put-upon, and so he responded with a relieved exclamation when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes – come!" He paused while the door was opened. His relief grew when he saw Thorontur. "At last! I thought you would never turn up! I have _no_ idea what to do with this." He brandished the book. "You would think they would give directions that make _some_ sense! But the only Elf who could _possibly _understand this would be an Elf who knows how to do it anyway! Have you any idea who wrote this? Remind me to tell him what I think of him!"

"I did offer to do it for you," Thorontur replied, looking amused.

"No, no, I _want_ to do it. It is to be my gift to him, after all. But this book is worse than useless!"

"When will you give it to him?" Thorontur enquired, "if you persist in stubbornly and foolishly telling Elrond that he is not to let the boy come home?"

"I will send it to him," Thranduil replied, as though the answer should have been obvious.

Thorontur shook his head and took a chair opposite Thranduil.

"_Mellon nîn_, if you will only admit it, everything will be far easier."

"Admit what?"

Thorontur rolled his eyes.

"Here you sit, in your son's old nursery, doing something that, to my certain knowledge, you have done only _once_ in your entire life – and that was because Master Bainion threatened to complain to your father if you did not! And you claim you do not want to see Legolas!"

"When did I ever say anything of the kind?" Thranduil demanded. "Of course I want to see him – but that will not be good for _him_."

"Please yourself," Thorontur grumbled. "It is really no concern of mine what you do with yourself. Although I do have legitimate claim to your son, since he is to be one of my archers. Anyone would think…"

Thranduil shut his ears to Thorontur's complaints and attempted to go on with his work.

* * *

The lamps in Elrohir's room was the only ones still burning in all of Imladris. On a throw rug on the floor sat three young Elves. They were sorting through packages that had been sent up by one of the healers earlier in the evening, with a note attached saying, "By order of Lord Elrond."

"_Ada_ must have gone mad," Elladan was muttering. "There is no way we can carry all this unless we take a mule train!"

"Leave all the bandages," Elrohir advised. "_Ada_ said the last of Legolas' bandages will come off tomorrow. We will not need them. If it _does_ come to the worst – if a certain Elfling falls off his horse, for instance…" He stopped and neatly caught the pillow thrown in his direction. "If, as I say, that should happen, we can make do with tearing up an old cloak."

"The sleeping herbs we will need," Elladan continued, ignoring the suspicious glare cast in his direction by Legolas. "If that Elfling is as excited and uncontrollable as he usually is on a ride through the forest, we may have to resort to drugging him if we want some peaceful sleep ourselves." He ducked, but not fast enough. "And," came his muffled voice from under the pillow, "if we want to avoid being attacked on no provocation whatsoever. This is iniquitous, Legolas!"

"Continue to speak of me in that fashion and you will become acquainted with things that are truly iniquitous," Legolas grumbled.

"Is this truly our Elfling who speaks?" Elladan asked, pretending to be hurt. "_Our_ Elfling? The same Elfling who used to sit in front of me on my horse when I went riding?"

"That was _my_ horse," Elrohir cut in. "You, as I recollect, stole it."

"_Borrowed_, Ro. I _borrowed_ it for a day."

"Borrowed _without_ permission."

"I assumed I had your permission."

"Why would I ever give you permission to ride my horse?"

"Because I am your older brother! Honestly, I do not know what young Elves are like these days. _I_ would never have dreamed of begrudging one of my elders a ride on my horse."

"You are a few _minutes_ older. That does not qualify you as –"

Elrohir stopped short when Elladan lunged at him. Legolas managed to get out of the way, but most of the bandages were scattered as the twins wrestled noisily – too noisily, as it turned out, because within a few minutes there was a smart rap on the door. Elladan and Elrohir straightened at once.

"I do not care what you do to each other," came the irate voice of the Master of Imladris, "but if you damage the Elfling in the process, _you_ will answer to Thranduil!"

They heard footsteps as Elrond left without waiting for an answer. A door shut, and then there was silence.

"_I_ was right," Elrohir muttered. "It was my horse."

* * *

"You sent for me, my lord?"

Thorontur nodded at Galion, but he said nothing, instead indicating with a gesture that the other Elf should shut the door. As soon as Galion had done so, he beckoned him closer.

"I will need you to keep a secret."

"Of course, my lord."

"From the king."

Galion did not look remotely surprised.

"Of _course_, my lord."

Thorontur nodded.

"Legolas should return soon – perhaps in two or three weeks, perhaps even sooner. Thranduil knows nothing of this. It is _vital_ that he should continue to know nothing until Legolas is actually here. Can you air out his room without Thranduil learning of it?"

Galion stared.

"But the king is already doing that, my lord."

"Already doing what?"

"Airing out the prince's rooms. One of the chambermaids heard noises in the prince's rooms when she was passing through the corridors yesterday and she opened it – quietly, just to ascertain whether there were intruders in the palace. She said the king was inside, opening all the windows and – er – talking to the climbing vines outside. He did not see her." Galion paused. "I thought you must surely know, my lord."

Fifteen minutes later, Thorontur had tracked Thranduil down in the nursery-turned-workroom.

"_Well?_" he demanded, striding in uninvited.

Thranduil looked up, not remotely perturbed.

"What is it?"

"You think it is unwise for Legolas to return to Imladris."

"You know I do," the Elven-king said, adopting an expression of long-suffering patience. "I explained it to you. I told you –"

"And you have written telling Elrond not to let him come here."

"I have."

"Then _why_ have you been preparing his apartments? And in secret! You know nothing about how to air out a bedroom. You will probably let bats in! Or worse! There are times, Thranduil, when I do not understand you at all."

"You… you _know_?"

"Yes, I do. Never mind how. Why were you doing it? Thranduil, I know you want Legolas back, and I am certain he _wants_ to come. If you will just be sensible and tell Elrond to send him home –"

"_No._"

"But you were –"

"I know what I was doing," Thranduil snapped. "I… I had to do that."

"_Why?_"

"Because… Because I have _told_ Elrond to keep him in Imladris, but you know Elrond. He is an incompetent fool. There is no way he will keep Legolas anywhere if the child does not want to stay, and I – I cannot bring myself to hope that my son does not want to see me, although I do think he should stay in Imladris. If he does evade Elrond and come… well… I only want him to be comfortable."

Having spoken with scarcely a pause to draw breath, Thranduil fell silent. It was some time before Thorontur recovered his power of speech.

"You cannot be serious," he managed to gasp at last. "I knew you were an idiot, Thranduil, but I never thought I would hear anything this ridiculous even from you. Why could you not have told Galion to do it? That way the room would have been opened _and_ it would not have been full of bat droppings."

"Because I do not want anybody telling Legolas I want him to return. And, in any case, there are no bat droppings in my son's room."

"There soon will be, if you are not restrained. I would not be surprised if there were giant eagle droppings. Of all the absurd – the unimaginable – it is not your son who is the Elfling!"

He turned and left the room.

"Where are you going?" Thranduil called after him.

"To find Arbellason. He should not miss hearing about this!"

* * *

The morning was bright and perfect for a ride. Legolas was already waiting outside, being alternately lectured and fussed over by Glorfindel and Celebrían. Elrond was striding through the corridors with Elladan and Elrohir trailing behind him, keeping up a constant flow of instructions and advice. The two young Elves had long since given up trying to get responses in; they only nodded and tried not to drop any of the numerous parcels and pouches that they had been handed at frequent intervals.

"And the one tied with blue string – yes, that is it, Elrohir – that is a good calming draught, and the important thing about it is that it is safe to use along with the blood-strengthening potion that I have already told you about. You will need it if anyone should be attacked."

Before either of the twins could point out that nobody was likely to attack them, Elrond had added a stoppered vial to the load in Elladan's arms.

"This is an antidote for most common forms of plant poison. You are unlikely to need it – the poisonous plants will probably stay out of your way on their own. But if someone should accidentally ingest any plant poison –"

"_Ada_," Elladan interrupted, unable to stop himself, "how could we possibly ingest plant poison without realizing it? You just said yourself that the poisonous plants will keep out of our way. And we will be accompanied by nobody who might poison us deliberately."

"Just in _case_," Elrond said. "Now stop arguing and pay attention. You both know how to splint broken bones, so…" He trailed off as they emerged into the courtyard. Legolas, who was already mounted bareback and carrying only a small pack, looked mildly startled at the sight of their full arms.

"Do not even ask," Elrohir muttered, giving the Elf-prince some packages to hold while he arranged the others in his saddle-bags. "If you start him talking again, we will never leave."

* * *

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	24. Home Again

**Disclaimer: **Not one Elf is mine.

Thanks to Thranduils Heart And Soul, Ohtar Vicky, Cushion, Silivren Tinu, anime-catdragon, XoLikeWoahxO, mikinyet and Ailiel Raith of Ithilien for reviewing.

My apologies to anyone who didn't get review replies – for some reason I kept getting error messages, and I'm not sure how many of them went through in the end. *hugs wonderful reviewers*

* * *

**Chapter 24: Home Again**

Legolas drew rein, staring to his left. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged a startled glance.

"What is it?"

"There is something I must do," the Elf-prince said. Without another word, he nudged his horse with his heels. She turned left and trotted off the path. The twins, grumbling good-naturedly, followed.

After a few minutes, Legolas slowed his horse to a walk, allowing his friends to ride up on either side of him. The trees around them, far sparser than in Eryn Galen, seemed unhappy about something: branches sagged, leaves drooped, and there was no sign of late-summer brilliance in the dull green of the foliage.

"I have seen this place," Elrohir whispered.

Legolas nodded.

"It was where _Nana_… where… she left me to wait…" His voice broke on the last word. For a moment he bowed his head, then he went on, with an effort at speaking steadily, "And she went to get help."

"And _that_ was the tree she left in charge of you," Elladan said, understanding, and pointing at one particularly unhealthy-looking specimen.

Legolas nodded again.

"I thought I ought to see it… For leagues the other trees have been telling me about how it is grieving."

"How could they possibly know?" Elrohir objected. "Along the road they are growing far apart, and even here the woods are not nearly dense enough for them to be able to communicate across long distances."

"Perhaps the birds," Elladan suggested. "Go and comfort it, Elfling – it looks like a strong wind will blow it down."

Legolas dismounted and ran to the tree. It did not greet him, not even when he laid his hands on it. Nor, at first, would it respond to anything he said. It took several minutes, coaxing, and finally intervention from a stately elm nearby before the tree could be persuaded to acknowledge him at all.

_Elfling_, it said at last. Even the twins could sense its misery. _Are you well?_

_I am unharmed_, Legolas responded, patting the tree soothingly. It quivered under his hands. _I am most grateful to you for all that you did to help me._

_I should not have let you go_, the tree moaned. _I promised her…_

_If you had not let me go, he might have caught her sooner_, Legolas offered, firmly suppressing the stab of guilt that thought caused. _She would not have blamed you for anything that happened._

_I was to keep you safe. I failed._

_I am well._

_You are well._ The tree paused, its branches swaying as though in a high gale. _You have grieved. I am sorry._

_It was not your doing._

_I am glad you are well, Elfling. _Legolas, sensing something unusual in the tree's tone, stepped back to stare at it. Its leaves had seemed dull, earlier; now he saw that some of the branches were nearly bare.

_You must not grieve so much_, he told it gently. _You did all you could._

* * *

Thorontur's face was a picture of delighted relief. He practically ran the distance from his study to Arbellason's, not even stopping to apologize to the guards who had to jump aside to avoid being knocked down. More than one stared at him as if fearing for his sanity, but he could not make himself care.

When he reached Arbellason's study, he burst in without knocking. Pausing only to catch his breath and make sure that Thranduil was not there, he gasped, "He is coming."

"What? Who?"

"Legolas, obviously."

"_What?_ How do you know?"

"Elrond's letter." Thorontur waved a crumpled scroll. "He says in this that he plans to let Legolas leaves in a day or two, with Elladan and Elrohir to accompany him. And they will be going slowly, because he does not think Legolas can take the pace of a swift ride. With the time it would have taken the messenger to get here, we can probably expect them in a few days."

Arbellason's grin was broad enough to match Thorontur's own.

"Have you told Thranduil?"

"Are you out of your mind? I have done nothing of the kind! I cannot imagine the ridiculous things he might do if we tell him. He still thinks it is not good for Legolas to come here."

"What are we going to do, then? It will be impossible to keep it quiet – the trees will be excited enough to ensure that."

"Say nothing." Thorontur shot him a comfortable smile. "Thranduil hardly sees anybody these days, anyway; and those whom he _does_ see can be warned not to let him know. I think we might even be able to persuade the trees to say nothing to him, although I doubt that will even be necessary. He has barely been into the forest since…" He trailed off, his smile fading. For a moment they stood in silence, thinking of the _elleth_ who would never return. Then, with a shake of his head, Thorontur went on, "Anyway, we can easily ensure that he knows nothing until Legolas is actually here."

"And then I think we can trust him to be sensible." Arbellason nodded. "We had better make haste and warn everyone."

* * *

_Jagged lightning tore through the sky. An Elf screamed._

_There was laughter, high and cruel._

"Legolas!"

_Legolas could do nothing but watch as the blade gleamed evilly in the moonlight. It rose and fell and –_

"Legolas!" He was shaken. "Legolas, wake!"

Legolas blinked blearily. The world slid into focus. Above him were leaves, birds, and a bright blue morning sky.

He pushed himself up. There were hands at his back, helping him. As soon as he was sitting, a cup was pressed into his hands. He drank without thinking, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste.

"Do not make faces." He heard Elrohir's voice, comfortingly familiar. "It is good for you."

"Did you have nightmares again, Elfling?" Elladan asked.

Legolas nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Well, you slept through most of the night without incident," Elrohir said, taking the cup from him and offering him a piece of _lembas_. "That is something to be thankful for. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Legolas replied. Then, with an apologetic glance at his friends, "I am sorry. I did not intend to wake you."

"Wake us? We did not even sleep!" Elladan retorted cheerfully. "It is only little Elflings who need their rest, not grown warrior Elves. Especially little Elflings who have been exhausting themselves climbing trees."

"I am perfectly fit!" Legolas protested. "Lord Elrond said so himself."

"He said you were perfectly fit to _ride_. He did not say you were perfectly fit to swarm up an elm and then leap from branch to branch like a half-witted squirrel. Still…" He looked Legolas over. "It seems to have done you no harm, so we will let it go this once."

"Are you ready to go on?" Elrohir asked. "We will be in Eryn Galen this evening."

* * *

Three days had passed in a haze of clandestine preparation and whispered conferences wherever Thranduil could not hear. Thorontur was amazed that they had managed to keep the secret: despite his confidence before Arbellason, he had expected the Elven-king to find out within the hour.

Perhaps, he mused, it was just as well.

From the moment Legolas and the sons of Elrond had crossed into Eryn Galen, the trees had been supplying hourly updates on their progress. Now, by all accounts, they were only a few hours away. Arbellason had already warned all the Elves on patrol or guard duty to stay out of the way to let Thranduil greet Legolas in some privacy. All that remained now was to get the Elven-king outdoors.

Thorontur found his friend in the garden, poring over an old book of songs.

"I did not know you were thinking of turning minstrel," he said, dropping onto the stone bench beside him.

Thranduil flushed.

"I am not. I… I was just reading…"

"Noldorin lays?" Thorontur took the book from him, staring at the title in astonishment. "Since when have you enjoyed Noldorin poetry?"

His friend looked away.

"Much has changed. I have been thinking, _mellon nîn_… Do you remember how, when Legolas was born, Lindariel and I asked if you would look after him if the need arose?"

"Yes," Thorontur said, mystified. "And you know I will do that, although he does not need much looking-after now. He is quite capable of taking care of himself."

"Do you think he is ready to be King?"

"_What?_"

"Perhaps it is time for me to sail," Thranduil said, forcing the words out with difficulty. "I do not know if I will ever find peace in Middle-earth again. If I stay, I will only be ruining Legolas' happiness along with my own."

Thorontur opened his mouth to argue. Then he shut it, remembering a king who, some centuries ago, had spent months complaining that he was not ready to be a father, only to become the most doting of parents from the second the midwife laid the swaddled bundle in his arms. There was _one_ young Elf who would be able to coax anything from Thranduil, including sensible behaviour.

"It will be as you wish," he said, keeping his voice carefully calm. "We will speak of it later. I came to tell you that you are to watch the novices' archery practice today."

"Can you not do it yourself?"

"No," Thorontur told him firmly. "They will want to see you. Whatever may happen if you sail later, _now_ you are still King of Eryn Galen."

* * *

Thranduil could not suppress a sigh. Wishing he could return to his room and rest, he put his papers in an untidy heap that he knew would horrify Istuion. Then he left the study, shutting the door noisily behind him.

He hurried through the corridors, hoping he could finish with the novices quickly and return to his apartments for some peace. Thorontur and Arbellason must have hastened ahead of him. There was no sign of either of them… Nor, he realized with a start, was there anybody else about. If he did not know better, he would think someone had ordered the palace emptied.

The front door was open a crack, but the Elves who normally stood guard at it were nowhere in sight. With a shake of his head, he pushed it open the rest of the way and slipped outside.

The courtyard was almost completely empty. The only Elves in it were Thorontur and Arbellason, who were standing together at the bottom of the stairs. Of the students whom Thranduil had been told he was to inspect, there was not even one to be seen.

The Elven-king looked around in bewilderment.

His first hint that someone was approaching was the movement in the trees near the gates. His first reaction was to note, with a frown, that there were no guards there, either. Before he could reflect further, three riders emerged from the shadows of the trees.

Thranduil stared.

Even if he had not been able to see them, even if the sun glinting on the middle rider's bright golden head had not given his identity away as readily as the way the trees bent to greet him, even if he had not heard that rider's slightly subdued but indescribably wonderful peal of laughter at a remark made by one of his companions, every instinct the Elven-king possessed would have told him who was coming.

He thought of Valinor. He thought of the fact that he was, as he had told his friends, unfit to be a father. He thought of how much better it would have been for Legolas to stay in Imladris. He thought of persuading him to return there as soon as possible.

Then the blue eyes that had been raised to the trees above were lowered to gaze directly into his, and Thranduil thought only of how much he had missed his son.

He ran down the steps so quickly and with so little caution that he stumbled on the bottom one. Arbellason put a steadying hand on his arm.

"It will spoil everything if you break your leg now, _mellon nîn_," he said, chuckling.

Thranduil shook his arm off, but suddenly he found that he could not move. Legolas' eyes had not left his, and the young Elf's gaze seemed as intense and penetrating as Lindariel's had been.

The Elven-king felt his throat tighten. Legolas might have taken after him in looks, but there was something in the way he carried himself, something in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, his almost shy smile of greeting, that was painfully reminiscent of his mother.

The rider on the left – Thranduil recognized him now as one of the sons of Elrond, and he could not be bothered to conjecture which – leaned over to hold the bridle for Legolas to dismount. Thranduil bit his lip – that meant he was not fully healed. But he was standing on his own, and walking, and he looked far, far better than the grievously injured young Elf who had been given into the twins' care all those weeks ago.

A vague shadow passed behind Legolas as somebody came to take the horses. Thranduil did not give it more than a passing glance.

"Welcome home, Legolas," Thorontur called. "I hope you had a good journey. Your father is overjoyed to see you, and when he regains the power of speech, he will tell you so himself."

"If you want," Arbellason put in, "we can have a wager on what his first words will be. Myself, I think he will say either 'Legolas' or 'You never told me you were coming' – 'Elrond never told me you were coming', actually. That last is likeliest. I have never known anyone like Thranduil for complaining."

"That will be _quite_ enough," Thranduil got out.

"Ha!" Thorontur said triumphantly. "I win!"

"You cannot win," Arbellason protested. "You did not predict anything."

"I predicted that you would be wrong."

"You did not say so."

"Have you ever known me to take your side in a wager? Legolas, Arbellason is almost as big a fool as your father."

"Do not prejudice the Elfling against me."

"Against _you_? If anything, I am prejudicing him against Thranduil."

The familiar banter had the desired effect of bringing a smile to Legolas' face. The sight of it finally loosened Thranduil's tongue. He whispered, "You are here."

Legolas was standing before him now, only inches away. He was still smiling, but there was something missing from it, some grief in his shadowed eyes. Yet to Thranduil there could have been no more perfect sight.

He stretched his hands out and gripped Legolas' shoulders, only half believing that his son was truly there.

"Legolas."

"_Ada._"

There were footsteps, and voices, and then Thranduil was aware that he and Legolas were alone in the courtyard. He would not have cared if every Elf in the forest had been watching.

"You are here," he said, his voice shaking. "You have come. You… you do not know how much I have wanted you, _tithen pen._"

"_Ada_… I missed you."

"I know, Legolas. I know. I missed you, too. If… If you had not… lived… I could not have survived the grief. I am so happy you are here."

Thranduil tried to think of something else to say, but his mind seemed to have stopped working. Then he realized that there was no need to say anything. He caught his son up in his arms, holding him close. A moment later Legolas was sobbing into his tunic, and Thranduil, for the first time since his wife's death, found himself murmuring words of comfort and reassurance.

* * *

Well… Does this mean I can *finally* come out of hiding? ;-)

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	25. Finding Peace

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Thanks to Escape my reality, XoLikeWoahxO, Ohtar Vicky, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Silivren Tinu, awaylaughingonafastcamel, mikinyet, ShaolinQueen, yenneffer, fanpainter and Cushion for reviewing. *hugs*

I can't believe it… I'm almost at the end of this. *sigh* One chapter and the epilogue to go… I'm going to miss writing this story.

On the other hand… I _have_ been thinking about what the next longer fic is going to be. I'm inclining towards trying my hand at a murder mystery – perhaps with the Elf-and-Ranger as a pair of intrepid detectives? Or even Eldarion (which will let Gimli be in the story, too, although it will mean no Elrond). Please let me know what you think of the idea – whether it's worth a shot or it should be abandoned altogether.

* * *

**Chapter 25: Finding Peace**

Midnight found Legolas and Thranduil beneath one of Lindariel's favourite trees. They had gone there after dinner, to talk by themselves. But Legolas, worn out by the journey and still not as strong as he ought to be, had been too tired to say much, and had eventually fallen asleep against his father's shoulder. Thranduil, not displeased by that, had decided that there was no need to wake him when the weather outside was so pleasant.

Not long after Legolas dozed off, though, he began to stir uncomfortably, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and fear.

Thranduil was jolted out of his own reverie by the unexpected movement. His first instinct was to wake Legolas, who was clearly treading unpleasant paths in his dreams. But something held him back – perhaps the subliminal knowledge that waking Legolas would do little good, that the nightmares would begin again as soon as he went back to sleep.

Guided by instinct, he pulled Legolas closer, humming a lullaby that had often been used to coax a very small Elfling into pleasant dreams.

After a moment, the young Elf relaxed. He shifted slightly, his fingers finding the edge of Thranduil's cloak. Then, with a sigh and a murmured, "_Ada_," his face slackened in sleep once more.

Only then did Thranduil look up. He had to confess himself not entirely surprised to see the sons of Elrond watching him sympathetically.

"How long has he been having them?"

"Ever since he stopped taking sleeping draughts," Elladan said. "We had hoped that returning here might make them stop, but…" He shrugged in resignation, although his expression was anything but resigned. "We have been waking him each time. _Nana _says that if he stops blaming himself, it will help."

"And she said we were to tell you that you cannot sit up with him every night," Elrohir added. "You will do him no good by exhausting yourself."

Thranduil could not hold back a smile.

"Celebrían has not changed in the least."

"So Lord Glorfindel frequently says. He also says he has much in common with our _daernaneth_." A nudge from Elladan reminded Elrohir that there was little love lost between Thranduil and Galadriel, and he flushed and changed the subject. "We are pleased to be here, my king, but if the time had been happier…"

The Elven-king shook his head.

"We have only the time we are given," he said simply. "And while Legolas lives, there is more than mere duty that holds me to Middle-earth." He paused. "I have not yet thanked you for all you did. Elrond is a fool, but that is not your fault. You have been loyal friends."

The twins flushed at the praise.

"We did not do much, my king," Elrohir mumbled.

Thranduil gathered Legolas into his arms and got smoothly to his feet. The young Elf stirred, but did not wake.

"You did more than you can imagine," he responded, walking in the direction of the graceful building before them. The twins joined him, one on either side. "He might not have survived to return without you. If I had lost Legolas as I did Lindariel, and so soon…"

* * *

Legolas woke early the next morning, in his own bed, after one of the most restful nights he had had for days. For a moment he could not imagine where he was. Then he recognized the familiar shapes in the early light pouring through the open window.

He got to his feet slowly.

It was too early for breakfast, and in any case he was not yet hungry. It only took him a moment to make up his mind; then he was on the balcony, balancing easily on the edge of the parapet, leaping gracefully to the ground.

In the deserted room, Elrohir emerged from the shadows by the cold hearth.

"Why," he said to the room at large, "is it always the balcony? Is there something _wrong_ with leaving a chamber by the door?"

* * *

The young prince of Eryn Galen stood alone before his mother's grave. The wind whipped his hair away from his face and tugged at his cloak.

He found it impossible to believe that she lay under the unresponsive earth, that she would not at any moment emerge from the trees and laugh at him for being so melancholy. He could not imagine life without her. He loved his father fiercely, and he knew the emotion was returned, but they were both stubborn. Without Lindariel's mediation Legolas and Thranduil would have spent the better part of every year not talking to each other.

He felt the tears come, and he did not try to stop them.

He sensed the trees reaching out to him in sympathy. They mourned the queen nearly as much as he did. Somehow that only served to increase his grief.

A footstep sounded behind him. Legolas stiffened. It was not his father.

Pausing a moment to compose himself, and to scrub his cheeks with his sleeve, he pulled his cloak closer about him and turned.

"_Mae govannen_," Rochendilwen said softly. "I thought you might be here."

Not trusting himself to speak, Legolas only nodded. She seemed to understand, because she gave him a slight smile and came forward to grip his shoulder. What she said, though, was the last thing he had expected.

"Will you spar with me?"

Legolas opened his mouth to refuse. He did not trust his emotions as far as Rochendilwen was concerned, not yet, and he had no desire to harm her in a moment of anger. Once again, she guessed his thoughts.

"Do not worry," she said, amusement entering her voice. "You do not look strong enough to hurt me even if you try. If anything, _I_ will have to worry about doing _you_ some damage. This is what happens to foolish Elflings who insist on riding all the way from Imladris to Eryn Galen when they are still unfit."

"I am not unfit," Legolas protested, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Then come and prove it."

Legolas could not believe that he was actually doing it. But Rochendilwen was smiling at him, half-exasperated but slightly nervous, and he found himself following her to the armoury, where the warriors kept knives and swords with blades carefully blunted for their practice.

They did not go to the practice fields, but into the forest, to a large clearing some distance from the guard posts, where they could be certain of not disturbing anybody.

At any other time the clearing would have been full of warriors, both novices and veterans, sparring or going through training exercises. But most of them had been deep in their cups the previous night, whether out of sorrow for their queen's passing or gratitude for their prince's safe return none could tell. Legolas and Rochendilwen had the place to themselves.

As soon as they began, Legolas knew that she had been right about one thing: he could not possibly harm her. Weeks of being confined to his bed and then to his room had dulled his reflexes, and Glorfindel's brief training exercises had only partly restored them.

He realized, after the first few minutes, that she was not even trying to defeat him. She was only feinting and defending herself, letting him try his strength.

"You see?" she said, smiling.

"_Why?_" he gasped.

"It will help you. It is no longer dangerous for you to tire yourself, is it? I assume not, or Lord Elrond would not have let you out of his sight. You can try harder if you like, Elfling. You will not hurt me."

The sun was well over the horizon when, finally, exhaustion made Legolas drop his arms. Rochendilwen had tested his strength to the utmost; towards the end it had been all he could do not to have his blades knocked out of his hands, and even that he suspected she could have done if she had wanted to.

With a sigh, Legolas practically collapsed to the ground beneath one of the beeches surrounding the clearing. Rochendilwen, with far more grace, did the same.

"You have regained more strength than I thought," she said, idly running one finger down the edge of her blade. "If the weapons masters manage to persuade your father that you are fit for a normal training schedule, you will be ready for patrols again in days."

"They will let me go on patrol now," Legolas said lightly. "After all, they let _you_ do it three weeks ago."

"Who told you that?"

"Saeldur."

"That is different. I was not nearly killed." She glanced at him. "I do not think anybody has actually discussed your future as a warrior with the king yet. Not even Lord Thorontur dares do it. Do you feel better now?"

Startled by the sudden change of subject, it was a minute before Legolas realized what she was talking about.

"Yes… It _does_ help."

He was tired, true, but it was very different from the numb, terrifying powerlessness he had felt when he had first woken in Imladris, when the slightest attempt at movement had been painful and he had barely been able to return the reassuring pressure of his friends' fingers. What he felt now was the weariness normally caused by a full day's weapons training. It made the stillness of the forest wonderfully soothing, and drove from his mind the dark thoughts that had been in it all this time.

"Legolas…" Rochendilwen sounded suddenly uncertain. "If you do not wish me to be in your presence –"

"No." The young Elf gave her what he hoped was a consoling smile. "I would have trusted myself – and he was your brother. I… I do wish you had not done it, but I understand. Perhaps I would have done the same."

She stared.

"You _are_ a trusting fool. Did you never for a moment suspect that I… I might…"

"That you might have intended it all along?" Legolas guessed, and she nodded. "But you meant no harm, did you? If you wanted to kill me, you could do it now, even _with_ a blunt blade."

She patted his knee, much as she had done when he had been an Elfling.

"And you trust your friends?"

"Do you not?"

"I trusted my brother, and look where that led."

"I do not think the problem was that you trusted your brother," Legolas said slowly, groping for words. "It was that you did not trust your king to deal fairly with him."

Rochendilwen's shoulders slumped.

"And yet he has dealt fairly with me, despite all I did."

"It was not your fault," Legolas said sharply.

"I cannot forgive him for it," Rochendilwen said in a dull monotone. "The king was kind to him, kinder than he deserved. If it had been in my hands… I am so _sorry_, Legolas. I cannot imagine what you suffered."

"I suffered the pain of loss," the Elf-prince said, staring up into the leaves of the tree. "But I was not betrayed by anybody I trusted." He tossed one of his knives into the air, catching it by the hilt as it came down. "There _was_ a time when I was angry with you, but even then I did not blame you. How could I? If somebody I cared for had been on trial for murder, and if I had been certain of his innocence, I might have helped him escape as well."

"But I was _wrong_ about his innocence."

"You did not know him – none of us knew him, except perhaps your mother. Nobody else here knew his childhood or what he was taught by those who raised him."

"And if the flaw was in his very blood?"

Legolas shrugged.

"You will have to ask Mithrandir that. But even if it was, it is not in _your_ blood."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because if you really did have an inclination towards murder and kinslaying, you would not find the very idea of it so disturbing."

Rochendilwen laughed.

"You will make a very good mentor to young warriors one day, Legolas – assuming your father lets you continue."

"Do not be absurd."

"You know that you will be commander of the Colhador eventually, if Lord Thorontur has his way. And that is where all the eager young archers are sent, to try their mettle before they become wiser and less reckless and can go on to other duties."

"What mettle?" Legolas protested. "For as long as I can remember, the woods have been peaceful. There are no wild charges and desperate raids _now_."

"I do not think it will last much longer," Rochendilwen said thoughtfully.

Legolas, suddenly remembering the creatures he had seen in the depth of the forest, could not help but agree.

* * *

Thorontur and Arbellason were watching Thranduil as he sat, intent, at the table in the nursery.

"He is not as clumsy as I expected," Arbellason commented to Thorontur. "When I first heard of this, I was certain we would spend months clearing out wood splinters and the remnants of abortive attempts before we saw anything useful emerge."

"He can do well enough when he is so inclined," Thorontur said cheerfully. "Master Bainion would certainly have been satisfied if he had seen _this_."

Thranduil looked up long enough to scowl.

"It may surprise the two of you to learn that I am _not_ deaf. You can stop talking about me as though I were a piece of furniture."

He was favoured with a wicked grin from each of his friends. Muttering under his breath, he decided to ignore them and went back to his work. They waited in silence for a few minutes, and then Thorontur spoke again.

"I believe you were saying something about sailing, _mellon nîn_."

"Sailing?" Thranduil asked, too much of a scapegrace even to blush. "Who said anything about sailing? Why would I be sailing when Legolas wants me here? Do you think I can possibly leave him here all by himself? I cannot believe you are asking me such ridiculous questions."

* * *

Rochendilwen had gone in to breakfast, but Legolas, unwilling to leave so soon, lingered in the clearing, chatting amicably with the trees.

… _And of course you can always turn to us for help_, one of them was saying merrily. _We know what it is like for a young Elf in the forest. And when you must be king –_

_King?_ Legolas demanded in astonishment, even as four different trees began berating the first for indiscretion. _What are you talking about? Why would I ever be king of anything?_

_Nothing, Elfling, he is being a fool –_

_Truly, he is the most idiotic tree in the entire forest. Even the willows by the river –_

_But you need have no fear, Elfling. He did not mean anything._

Legolas was not deceived.

Eventually, with great reluctance, one of the trees said, _Your father plans to sail – or so he said. Perhaps he will still change his mind, and you need not worry about it yet.

* * *

_

**Sindarin Translations**

_Ada _– Dad/Daddy

_Nana _– Mum/Mummy

_Daernaneth_ – Grandmother

_Mae govannen._ – Well met.

_Mellon nîn_ – My friend

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	26. Answers

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**AN:** This chapter was _really_ not meant to take so long, but RL got in the way, so… *shakes head* At any rate, here it is at last.

Many thanks to Ohtar Vicky, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Escape my reality, ShaolinQueen, fanpainter, mikinyet, Silivren Tinu, Ocean's Nocturne of the COCA, awaylaughingonafastcamel, Cushion, Calril and sokkergurl for reviewing the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Answers**

Legolas stumbled to his feet, head whirling. He could not believe it – he did not _want_ to believe it. The thought of living without his mother was terrible enough in itself, but to dwell in Middle-earth without either of his parents seemed unthinkable. Somehow the possibility that his father might want to sail had never entered his mind.

He walked, without quite knowing where.

A few minutes later he found himself in the garden. Every tree and shrub in it had been planted by his mother. It gave him an odd kind of comfort to be there. It almost seemed, as he sank to the ground beneath a gnarled old oak and shut his eyes, that he could hear her voice.

* * *

Elladan, deciding that Legolas had been sitting under the tree by himself long enough, dropped to the ground with a faint _thump_. Had Legolas been himself, he would have known of Elladan's presence the moment his feet touched the grass. As it was, he did not turn, or even stir.

For a moment Elladan stood watching him.

Then he seated himself on the ground beside Legolas, prodding his arm with a stray twig to get his attention.

Questioning eyes were turned on him.

"I thought you would be happier here," Elladan said softly. "And you were, yesterday. What happened, Elfling? It is not like you to be sitting under the trees moping instead of getting your breakfast, especially after an early round of sparring."

Legolas smiled slightly.

"How long have you been following me?"

"All morning. Elrohir was in your room, but since you, with blatant disregard for the unfortunate Elves trying to keep you safe, declined to use the door, and since he could not jump from the balcony without alerting you to his presence, I had to take over. I was waiting outside in case of just such an eventuality."

The younger Elf rolled his eyes.

"I _can_ look after myself."

"Humour us," Elladan said, patting Legolas' shoulder. "And tell me what worries you."

There was a moment's silence.

"Legolas?" Elladan prodded.

"Do you think my father will sail?"

Elladan, at first, was shocked into speechlessness. When he finally found his tongue, he asked, "What made you think of such a thing?"

Legolas hesitated. At last he said, "He is unhappy."

"He is," Elladan agreed gently. "And perhaps he will never again be as happy as he once was. But that does not mean he will not know _any_ happiness in Middle-earth. I have heard it said that his spirits have been lifted by your return. And anyone can see that he finds both comfort and joy in your presence."

"There may be greater comfort in the Blessed Realm."

"There is peace there, Elfling, but I do not know if there is always consolation. And your father would find even the peace hollow in the absence of all he loves. I do not think he will sail."

"He thought of it."

Elladan's eyebrows went up, but he did not ask how Legolas knew that.

"Perhaps he did. If so, he has certainly changed his mind now… You know I saw him, Elfling, in that terrible hour shortly after your mother's death, when we all believed we were going to lose you as well. He grieves for your mother, but I do not believe you know how grateful he is for your life. He will not do anything that will make you unhappy."

"I cannot bear the thought of losing him," Legolas said in a small voice, "but I do not want to force him to stay if he wants to go."

* * *

"Thranduil, I must speak to you."

The Elven-king paused in the act of opening his study door, fixing Arbellason with a questioning glance. He had not been down to lunch – he had spoken to Legolas briefly after breakfast, but there had not been time for more than a few words and a quick hug before he had been summoned away for some work while Legolas went riding with his friends.

"Is something wrong?"

Arbellason indicated that they should enter the study. Thranduil went in, held the door open for his friend, and then repeated his question.

"Nothing is wrong," Arbellason responded. "I only wanted to tell you that I plan to put Legolas back on regular patrol duty next week."

For a moment the Elven-king could not believe what he was hearing.

"You plan –"

"Yes."

"My _son_ –"

"Your son."

"_Patrol duty?_"

"Nothing very rigorous or dangerous to begin with. But I do not want him to sit here moping and doubting himself and his skill as a warrior. The sooner he returns to his duties, the better for him. He needs it, Thranduil. And he will be in no danger."

"But – if something happens –"

"He will be fine."

"He is all I have left!"

"Thranduil," Arbellason said gravely, "I know how scared you must be, but I promise you, he will be in no danger. The forest is safe. There will be plenty of other Elves with him – I will warn them not to leave him alone, and I will not send anywhere more than an hour's ride away. You must let me do this."

"Please – you cannot – not so _soon_. Not when there is no real need for warriors."

"Would you rather have him stay within your walls until there _is_ a real need for warriors, and then ride out to meet the danger untrained? Thranduil, while you are our king, he is our prince. He is young, but the time will come when he will be expected to command the archers and take his place as your heir – not by me or by Thorontur or even by the Council, but by your people. You cannot protect him forever."

Thranduil squared his shoulders and raised his head.

"Do it, then," he said, his voice steady. "Do it – only – do not send him very far. Not yet."

Arbellason laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I understand."

* * *

"Have you seen Legolas?"

Thorontur shot his friend a curious glance.

"He was at breakfast with his friends. I have not seen him since then – I did not see him at lunch or dinner. I thought he must be with you."

Thranduil shook his head.

"I have not spoken to him all day. I have a feeling he is avoiding me."

"Do not be absurd."

"He is," the Elven-king insisted. "And I do not know why."

Thranduil looked so woebegone that Thorontur, with a soft laugh, got to his feet and threw open the door. He pointed his friend in the direction of the passage.

"Let us go and find him."

"I know where he is."

Thorontur stared.

"You know where he is?"

"Of course," Thranduil replied, slightly impatiently. "The boy may have corrupted all the trees and most of the Elves, but I can still locate my son in my own palace. He is in the garden."

"Then why are you standing here talking to _me_? Go and ask _him_ why he is avoiding you."

"But what if he does not want to talk to me?"

"_Honestly_, Thranduil!" Thorontur snapped. "Legolas, at least, is still little more than a child, but _you_ are an adult Elf who ought to have more sense than this!" He saw his friend's stricken face, and went on, with a sigh, more gently, "Thranduil, all this time Lindariel ensured that the two of you stayed on talking terms. You and Legolas both have a tendency not to speak of things that worry you – but you will have to learn to speak of them now, at least to your son. Now come."

* * *

Thorontur had shoved him outdoors, but Thranduil did not quite know what to do. It was ironic, he thought wryly, that after having longed for his son's presence for so long, he should not know what to say now that Legolas _was_ here.

He padded silently out to the tree beneath which Legolas sat. It was a measure of the young Elf's distraction that he did not notice his father's arrival: normally he would have known as soon as Thranduil stepped outside. His throat tight, wishing, not for the first time, that Lindariel were there to tell him what to do, Thranduil dropped to the ground next to Legolas and slipped an arm around him.

"My king," Legolas murmured without turning. His eyes were glimmering with tears.

"You should not be out here," Thranduil said softly. "You have not yet recovered, and the nights grow cold."

"I am fine."

Thranduil smiled despite himself. It appeared that some things would never change. With a shake of his head, he shrugged off his cloak and slipped it around Legolas' shoulders.

"If you are going to sit outdoors, at least wrap up warmly." Legolas bowed his head. Thranduil thought he heard a muffled sob. "It was not your fault, Legolas."

"But it _was_ my fault," Legolas whispered. "If I had –"

"_No_," Thranduil interrupted sharply. "It was not your fault. I never want to hear you saying such a thing again. Do you understand me, Legolas?"

"But –"

"Legolas!" Legolas flinched at the tone, and Thranduil, with a sigh, went on more gently. "It was truly not your fault, Legolas. It grieves me immeasurably to see you blaming yourself. You do not know how much I love you." Legolas, with another choking sob, flung his arms around his father and snuggled up to him as though seeking comfort. "Please, Legolas, at least for the sake of my peace of mind. You must accept that you are not to blame."

"I have missed you, _Ada_."

"I know," Thranduil responded, deciding to ignore Legolas' evasion. "Shall we go inside? You will not recover unless you rest."

Legolas shook his head, tightening his arms around his father. Thranduil frowned.

"What is wrong, _tithen pen_?"

"I do not want to go to bed."

"Why not?"

"I... I had... bad dreams."

Thranduil rubbed his son's shoulder gently.

"I know, _penneth_. I know it is difficult. It is no wonder that you are having nightmares after having seen so much. But you must sleep. I will sit with you tonight, and I will make certain you do not have bad dreams."

Legolas seemed on the verge of protesting, but Thranduil tugged him to his feet.

"Come, Elfling. The healers will never let me hear the end of it if I let you stay out here any longer."

They went indoors together. In silence they mounted the stairs to the royal quarters, Legolas staring ahead of him with unseeing eyes and Thranduil uncertain what to say. Somewhere in the distance, voices began to sing in the slow, gentle melody of a lament. Legolas shivered.

When they came to the door to Thranduil's apartments, Legolas paused.

"I will be fine, _Ada_. You do not have to sit with me."

The Elven-king looked at his son closely. Whatever Legolas was, he was obviously not 'fine', but he wore a determined, stubborn expression that Thranduil knew from long experience.

Not knowing what else to do, Thranduil drew his son into the room, murmuring, "I have a gift for you, Legolas."

He pushed Legolas into a chair and slipped out. He returned a moment later with a long, cloth-wrapped bundle, which he laid in his son's hands. Legolas turned it over, looking slightly puzzled.

"What –"

"Open it."

Slowly, Legolas untied the strings holding the wrapping in place. It fell open to reveal a longbow, shaped and carved with loving care, polished until the wood gleamed dully in the lamplight. For a moment the young Elf stared at it as though unable to believe his eyes.

"I have never done this before," Thranduil mumbled apologetically. "If the balance is not right –"

"It is _perfect_."

Thranduil's breath caught. Before he had time to say anything, Legolas was in his arms, hugging him with all the unabashed affection of the Elfling he had once been, and Thranduil was hugging him back almost _fiercely_.

"I cannot keep all sorrow from you," he whispered, "no matter how much I wish I could. But I will do my best… We will miss her, Legolas, and we will never stop wishing she were here." He drew back a little. "If I could do anything to bring Lindariel back, I would. But since I cannot, and since I must now learn to live without her, I am more thankful than I can say that she has at least left me something to remember her by." Thranduil hesitated. "She loved you, Legolas – she loved you more than anything else in the world… As do I. I promise you, I will not leave Middle-earth while you are in it."

Legolas stared.

"How did you know?"

"I am your father, _penneth. _I knew."

"But – the trees said –"

Legolas broke of awkwardly.

"They said I planned to sail?" Thranduil guessed. Legolas nodded. The Elven-king shook his head. "I will not lie to you, Legolas – I did think of it. And if you had not returned, I might have done it. But I realize now that that would be a mistake. Everything I need to find peace is here."

"In Middle-earth, _aran-nîn_," Legolas murmured, kissing his father's hand formally.

"No, _penneth_," Thranduil said with a smile. "In this room." He hesitated. "Legolas, you do know that I love you?"

"Of course." Legolas looked startled. "_Ada_, what –?"

"Remember that. Always." Thranduil paused again, searching for the right words for what he wanted to say. "Legolas, I know I am not the best of fathers." He raised a hand to silence Legolas' objection. "And _you_ know that we are both sometimes stubborn. There will be times when we argue, and there will be times when you think I am being unreasonable or unfair. But – no matter what happens – I love you more than you can imagine, and nothing will change that."

In the distance, the laments went on.

* * *

And now only the epilogue to go… I think I can safely promise that that won't take this long.

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	27. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**AN: **This should teach me not to be overly optimistic in my assessments. *sighs*

Thanks to fanpainter, Thranduils Heart And Soul, Silivren Tinu, sokkergurl, RadioactiveSquirrel, Ocean's Nocturne of the COCA, mikinyet, yenneffer, Cushion and Ohtar Vicky for reviewing the last chapter.

And a very big thank-you to everyone who reviewed or put this fic on their favourites list or story alerts. *hugs* All the encouragement is what kept me going!

* * *

**Epilogue**

Thranduil, half-awake, gazed wearily out of his study window at the sky, which was just lightening to the grey that came before dawn. He waited for the familiar morning sounds: the birds beginning their song, hoofbeats in the courtyard as the night patrols returned to the palace, soft footsteps from the antechamber as Istuion brought in any scout reports that had been delivered overnight.

He knew it was going to be a difficult day. It was the day on which, ten years ago, he had felt Lindariel die – and it was the first time he would have to spend the day alone. Legolas was away on patrol.

Thranduil sighed. The presence of his son always made him feel closer to Lindariel, as though she had left something of herself in their child. Legolas felt his father's sorrow keenly, and he usually tried to avoid staying away for too long, but it could not always be done. The Elven-king, who was used to marking this most terrible of anniversaries with the comfort of his son's head resting on his knee and Legolas' warm hands holding his, could not imagine how he would get through the day.

He leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes and listening for Istuion.

He heard the horses in the courtyard first. Almost at once, they were drowned out by birdsong and the fluttering of wings as several of them alighted on his windowsill. Then came the sound of the outer door opening and shutting softly, followed by somebody moving around the antechamber. To his surprise, instead of dying away as quickly as they usually did, the footsteps came closer. He heard the study door open.

Thranduil smiled.

"I must confess, I had little hope that you would be here," he said, not bothering to look up.

"How did you know it was me?" an aggrieved voice demanded.

The Elven-king laughed, sitting up and holding out his hands.

"Nobody else would have the temerity to invade my study without leave, my bold little warrior. When did you return? You should have come straight to see me."

"I _have_ come straight to see you," Legolas responded. "I would not have left you alone _today_ of all days, _Ada_. I would have come back last night, but there were some… complications… on the way."

"Complications?"

"Yes." Legolas perched himself on the edge of the desk and grinned at his father. "I am sure you do not want to know about them. It is just as well that I was delayed, in any case – I would not have liked to disturb you that late at night."

"Yet you have disturbed me _very_ early in the morning."

"If you do not want to see me now, I will go," Legolas said, getting to his feet and contriving to look hurt. "I only thought that you might not mind if I came in to talk to you, considering that you were not asleep in any case."

Thranduil, with a wicked smile unbefitting to an Elven-king, flung a cushion at his son. Legolas caught it and threw it back, beginning a wrestling match which ended, predictably, with a laughing young Elf on his stomach on the floor, effectively prevented from moving by his father, who held his arms behind his back in a gentle but unyielding grip.

"Just remember, _penneth_," Thranduil said, eyes sparkling with amusement, "that you may be a brave and valiant warrior, but you will never get the better of your father." He pulled the young Elf to his feet. "I am happy you are here. Now tell me about those complications."

"Complications? What complications?"

"_Legolas._"

Legolas made a face.

"If you _must _know, it was entirely an accident. Saeldur came back with me, and while we were crossing that river that cuts across to the north, just before the waterfall, we thought we saw some caves behind the waterfall and we thought it would be wisest if we… explored them. You never know who might be hiding in a cave."

"I see," Thranduil said, amused. "And _was_ anyone hiding in it?"

"Not any more, at least, but I think there must have been someone a few years ago. There were signs of a fire once having been lit there, and some scraps of cloth – oh, I do not know whose. It could even have been Elflings playing. But now that we know it is there, we can make sure it is never used for anything other than children's games." Thranduil frowned, and Legolas looked startled. "What is wrong?"

"Do not go there again, Legolas."

"But it is perfectly safe," the young Elf protested. "There is certainly nobody there now. It has not been occupied for years."

"Humour me." Thranduil looked very grave now, not the slightest hint of mirth on his face. "You will think me unreasonable, but you must understand, Legolas – I cannot lose you."

Legolas sighed. "I suppose now I must also promise to stay within your walls for the rest of my life?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I know I seem ridiculously over-protective, but I am not. When the time comes I will have to let you go into battle as I did, no matter how it will break my heart to see you ride away and wonder if I will ever see you return. It is the price you must pay for being my son. But to risk yourself when there is no need –"

"_Ada_," Legolas cut in softly. "I am sorry. I will not go there again."

The Elven-king smiled, but as soon as Legolas had gone to his room to wash and change, he hurried out to find Arbellason and Thorontur. Even if the cave Legolas had found had been abandoned years ago, there were other hiding-places in the area.

But even as he left the room, Thranduil had a feeling that they would find nobody.

* * *

The End

* * *

*hides* I really couldn't resist - one last time. *g*

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